Secret Sisters
by BHBrowne
Summary: Clementine was forced to make a difficult choice at the rest stop, and it ended in her oldest friend dying. Now, with just a baby and Jane for company, they try their best to put their difficult journey together behind them and focus on what's ahead. But in the apocalypse, the past is one of the few things that's never too far away from you. [Art by viralsanctity.]
1. Prologue

A/N: Thanks to Fanfiction users **TheDomdotCom** and **Screamin' Eagles** for beta reading this little story of mine. I really appreciate all the help, thank you kindly.

A massive thank you to DeviantArt user **viralsanctity** for letting me use their fantastic art as the cover art for this little story. You're amazing, thank you _so_ much! Make sure to check out their work on DeviantArt, it's absolutely phenomenal.

I decided to upload this way before I thought I was going to, simply because it's been sitting in my Google Drive for a little while, now. Next chapter will be out on my birthday, April 18th. Until then, enjoy the first chapter of this little project. I'm so excited to share this with you all. If you enjoyed, be sure to let me know.

\- BHBrowne

 _ **Secret Sisters**_

 **Prologue**

" _A sister is both your mirror - and your opposite."_

 _\- Elizabeth Fishel_

* * *

" _This is our chance, Clem! Don't you ever want to know what it's like to live your own life?"_

How brilliant those words had sounded, all those days ago.

The snow covered forest is quiet and peaceful. The tops of the trees are sheeted in the white substance, glistening slightly. Within the forest, three figures are sitting on an overturned tree log. A frozen stream runs near to them, which the second youngest of the figures keeps glancing to with sad eyes. As if thinking about something. Or some _one._

The eldest of the three looks down at her younger companion, watching as she rocks the baby slowly in her small arms. The little girl looks truly miserable, her shoulders slumped and her eyes low. The short-haired woman watches the cap-wearing eleven-year-old carefully, noting the way she's _really_ trying her hardest to smile for the baby boy in her arms, and the way it comes off as a tiny grimace.

"You okay, Clem?" the woman tries to grab her attention. The little girl doesn't respond, bobbing the baby up and down. She sighs, looking away for a moment. Ever since the incident back at the rest stop, the little girl doesn't talk too much, save for asking if the woman would hold the baby while she sleeps. To which the woman will begrudgingly oblige, remembering with a sinking feeling in her stomach how often the baby pukes when he's laying in her arms. Maybe today will be the day the kid starts to talk again.

Her gaze falls on the small girl next to her and she gives a weak smile. _Clementine._ Her cap is tugged over her eyes, blue and white with a capital 'D' emblazoned on the front, representing some baseball team she doesn't recognise. Her heart twitches at the sullen look in the girl's once bright and hopeful eyes, and a similar sensation rises in her gut when she sees the girl's gunshot wound out the corner of her eyes. _Agh._ She spots the baby curled up in Clementine's lap, and resists the temptation to grimace. Being lumped with it is one of the - very few - tradeoffs of traveling with the little girl.

Pain in her chest and leg has Jane grunting weakly, tensing. A cut in her jacket, and a cut in her thigh. Bandages are wrapped firmly around her leg, but the laceration that's torn her jacket is on its own. Only skin-deep, but enough to hurt like a real _bitch_.

The silence is deafening. She hisses in her breath as her stab wound sears, the cold wind aggravating the bloodied spot on her leg. She clamps a hand over the injury, counting to ten through gritted teeth while she waits for the pain to fade. She shouldn't have tried to incite that psychotic fucking -

 _Not your fault. Not your fault. He was off his fucking rocker. You had to show Clem, somehow._

The woman keeps the heel of her palm pressed against the stab wound, closing her eyes. Clementine looks over at the sound of her hissing her breath in, watching the woman with slumped shoulders for a long few seconds.

"Are _you_ okay, Jane?" Jane jolts in surprise at her quiet voice, opening her eyes and smiling at her little companion. "Does it still hurt?"

"Nah, it isn't so bad. Just - _agh_ \- stings, a little, now and then," Jane assures weakly. The eleven-year-old looks back to the little baby curled up in her arms and bobs him up and down, trying to keep the baby boy quiet and calm. Jane watches the eleven-year-old, trying to gauge whether or not the little girl hates her. Not that she'd blame her.

After all, the eleven-year-old had to shoot her oldest living friend to save Jane, from a confrontation that was built on a false premise. She can't begin to imagine what that does to a child. Even if that child is as strong-willed as Clementine. Watching her break down while she said her final goodbyes to Kenny, crying and claiming it was all her fault.

How little she knew.

The plan was stupid, looking back on it. She should've thought it through more, rather than throw something together on the fly. All Jane wanted was for Clementine to realise how dangerous Kenny was. She didn't want the poor girl to have to shoot him.

" _I'll_ _ **fucking**_ _kill you!"  
_

" _I - I knew you would!"_

Jane winces, remembering the feeling of her cold knife being pushed against her chest. She shudders, Kenny's face burned into her mind's eye. The blood trickling from around his animalistic eyes, his features alive with fury, the way he was shaking with rage. He'd looked like a demon possessed. Evil incarnate.

She glances down to the same knife sheathed against her pants, before letting her gaze fall on the pistol the eleven-year-old she's sitting next to had used on Kenny. The young woman can't imagine that leaving the little girl alone with her thoughts is going to help her any. So she shuffles just a little closer to her, hoping she won't get her head bitten off.

"Do you want to talk, Clem?" Jane asks in a soft tone, crossing her arms over her legs apprehensively.

"No," her small voice is sullen, making the woman's heart sink slightly.

"I ... I understand if you're still annoyed, with me."

"I'm not _that_ annoyed with you… I'm just really ..." Clementine lapses back into silence, chewing her lip fretfully as she talks. "I wish you didn't _lie_ to me…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" she takes a breath, considering her next choice of words. "Clem? You - You don't hate me, right?"

The little girl looks away guiltily, considering the question at hand. There's something in her eyes, a hollow look to her. There's the smallest hint of sadness in those golden orbs, enough for Jane to fidget uncomfortably. Clementine looks up at her, the little girl's lips tugging down as she seems lost in thought.

"I don't hate you," she mumbles finally, bobbing the baby gently. "I'm just really, uhm..." Clementine looks away, mumbling to herself as she casts around for a word. She seems to find one, looking up at the woman with wide eyes."P - Pissed?" Clementine stutters the word, enough for Jane's heart to melt a touch. She smiles bitterly, nodding.

"Pissed is fair."

"I - I don't want to be pissed with you, though. I don't - I don't have _anyone_ left," Jane hears Clementine's voice crack, and her lips tug downwards. Jane begs mentally that the little girl doesn't start crying. She can't stomach when children cry.

Clementine lets out a quiet, upset, noise as she shuts her eyes, and Jane watches with a sinking heart as tears trickle through her closed eyelids. The little girl sniffles, before starting to whimper and whine to herself quietly.

"No, hey, come on," Jane bleats, reaching a hand out to the little girl sitting next to her. Her hand hovers near the girl's shoulder, before she wraps her fingers around it. "I've got _you_. It's going to be okay. I promise."

"I don't -"

"It's okay," she murmurs, remembering back to when Jaime was alive. When stuff like this was a nightly occurrence. "I'm here. It's okay. I've got you," she repeats the reassuring words, the same she said as she pulled the girl out the lake, smiling gently as she squeezes her companion's shoulder. The woman shushes her softly, trying her best to calm the only friend she has left.

She could lie, and say the sole reason she's trying to calm Clementine is to stop walkers from being attracted to the noise. That, by crying, there's a risk of the undead stumbling upon their little camp and mauling the two - three, if you include a baby - people sitting around the fire.

But that'd be a lie.

 _Not that you're a stranger to the concept of lying._

The real reason is she can't bear to watch the girl who's been through so much, who's usually so strong and brave, break down and cry. It feels wrong, given how she feels it's her fault. Jane keeps her thin hand clasped around the scrawny little girl's shoulder, who sniffles again. Clementine lets out a strangled hiccup, trying to hold back her cries. She doesn't want anyone to see her break down.

"I'm sorry…"

"No, hey. Don't be sorry. It's not yourfault. I shouldn't have -" she pauses, deliberating. "It was a stupid plan. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, Clem," Jane's voice is scarcely more than a whisper as she assures the girl. Her cold fingers hold Clementine's shoulder tight, not wanting her to be alone in this moment. "I just thought - I thought it was best. I didn't think he'd go that far."

"It's okay," Clementine sniffles, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm s - sorry."

"Don't be," Jane advises gently, "Okay?" the little girl nods, her head bowed. Jane smiles weakly, looking around her surroundings. The forest they're in is still quiet, but the woman doesn't want to push her luck. "We should get moving. You good to move?"

"Can't we sleep?"

"Yeah, just not here," Jane mutters, pushing herself to her feet. She gasps as her wound is aggravated by the motion, so she wiggles the leg slightly to try and block out the pain as she talks."I don't want to sleep in the snow. Might get a flu, or something. I don't think I want it getting sick, too," she points with a limp finger at the baby in Clementine's arms. The little girl arches her little eyebrows, her eyes a little puffy and red.

"He's not an _'it'_ , Jane," Clementine tells her, her tone laced with impatience. "He's _called_ AJ."

"D'uh - Yea, yea, right. Him - AJ. Yeah. Right. Cool."

Clementine frowns a little at the woman in front of her, shifting the baby in her short arms. Jane fidgets, bouncing slightly on her heel as pain flares in her leg again. She grimaces, gasping quietly in discomfort. The little girl tilts her head, watching the woman anxiously.

"Are you sure you're okay? We have medicine -"

"No, no, I'll be - _gah -_ yeah, I'll be fine. Just a bit sore, I think."

"Mmhmm."

"How 'bout you? How's your shoulder?" the little girl rolls her shoulder at that, wincing to herself. Jane grits her teeth and lets out a quiet sigh at the question, an ugly feeling in her gut as she looks at the bullet hole.

"It hurts," Clementine whispers the words, glancing down at the red stain on her jacket. Jane clicks her tongue, smiling sadly down at the little girl.

The incident of her getting shot is still fresh in the woman's mind. The tiny breaths Clementine had been taking as Jane frantically patched her up, trying to tune out the deafening screams from the forest as Kenny took off after the rest of their group. Clutching the little girl close to her as she waited for Kenny to open the truck door, the eleven-year-old's blood slicking her pale hands, quietly begging that the little girl pulled through.

She can't - won't - lose another sister.

" _Move it, c'mon!" Jane gives a harsh shove to her younger sister, pushing her up the rest of the stairs. She slams the door shut behind her, her heart sinking as she catches a glimpse of the herd of walkers pushing after them. She grabs Jaime's hand, tugging her towards the edge of the roof. Her gut twists at the sight of more walkers in the street below, her eyes widening in horror. Her brown eyes take in her surroundings, the way the roof they're standing on towers over those nearby. Maybe, just maybe, they'll see another day yet._

 _A smash against the metal door is enough for Jane to let go of Jaime's hand and start her run up, backing up slowly._

" _You're gonna have to jump! It's - it's not that far, okay? You'll be fine!"_

" _I'm not going," her voice is so quiet, yet Jane can hear her clear as day over the sound of the walkers._

" _Wh - Yes, you are! It's not up for debate!" the metal door buckles, but the two women ignore the scraping noise of the metal grinding against the gravel on the roof. Jane races back towards her sister, grabbing her arms and dragging her towards the edge of the roof. "Just - fucking jump across!"_

" _I'm not going to! Just leave me here, I don't want to do this any more!"_

" _Do_ _ **what**_ _, survive?! Don't be an idiot, just jump! They're almost here!"_

" _No!"_

" _Jump!" Jaime wrestles free at the word, pushing away from the young woman. Jane stares at her, her eyes huge. "Dying like this is fucking stupid, Jaime! Do you think this is what mom and dad wanted for you?!"_

 _Crash._

" _You can't - you're not doing this, to me!"_

 _Crash._

" _You're… you're all I have left! Please, just - just jump for_ _ **me**_ _!"_

 _Crash._

" _I'm not going to die because of you, Jaime! Get over yourself, and fucking jump!"_

 _The younger girl still doesn't respond, hugging herself and looking towards the door. There's a longing look in her eye, one that Jane shudders at. The angry dead slam at the door again, a loud bang. Jane backs up, looking between her sister and the door with huge eyes._

" _F - fine! You want to stay here, with them -" she flings an accusing arm at the door, and Jaime follows the fingers. "Then you can! You can just stay here, and die!" she doesn't wait for the younger girl to reply, taking a running jump off the roof. She curses, her fear forgotten for a single exhilarating moment as adrenaline courses through her lithe body._

 _She lands awkwardly, rolling over and landing painfully on the lower roof. She hears the hungry groans of walkers getting closer, and chances a glance over her shoulder for a half moment. They're on the roof. Closing in on Jaime with outstretched hands and snapping jaws. She's not even panicking, her eyes closed and her head held high towards the sky._

 _Jane turns and runs, not looking back._

She shakes her head. That was a long time ago. Clementine's not _like_ Jaime. She's made of sterner stuff. She won't go the same way as her. She'll make sure of it.

"I'll take a look at it later. Once we're somewhere that's not out in the open," Jane offers quietly, wrapping her arms around herself and looking around the forest. "Howe's is still a couple days away. Maybe a week. We'll keep walking down the trail, try and find someplace to bed down. That sound good?" Clementine shrugs slightly, looking down at her purple sneakers. "Clem?"

"Okay."

Jane picks up on her small friend's sullen tone. The little girl is staring at the ground in front of her, misery contorting her scrawny form to make her look even shorter than usual. Her head is bowed, hiding her golden eyes under her tatty old cap. The woman puts a hand on her hip, observing the kid carefully.

"Something's up. You can tell me."

"It's dumb."

"Tell me," Jane presses, trying her best to not sound impatient. "It's okay,." Clementine looks up at the woman, clearly thinking hard. Her mouth opens, aaaaand ...

The little girl winds up just shaking her head, shifting the lump of human in her arms and clicking her mouth shut again. The short-haired woman sighs, rolling her eyes, but she doesn't make to force her to talk. Instead, she gestures southward, and the two figures start to walk. The baby whines quietly, earning a gentle shush from the little girl.

Snow starts to fall, earning a filthy cuss word from the young woman. Clementine frowns a little, seemingly finding the choice of words offensive, but after a moment of pondering she looks down at her shoes. Jane watches the action, her lips twisting.

The baby coos, looking up at Clementine, and the little girl's smile widens a little more. Jane is watching the two with an arched eyebrow, sighing quietly. Clearly, the warning she'd tried to give at the makeshift house a couple of nights back, before the 'Kenny incident', had fallen on deaf ears.

Jane looks to the liability - uhm, baby - curled up in Clementine's arms, and her brow furrows a little. She's quietly grateful it isn't vomiting everywhere, or crying, or … doing whatever babies do.

She's not an idiot. Jane understands _why_ someone would bring a baby into the world they live in. Injecting a little bit of normality, of hope, into the world,. sShe gets it. But she _never_ wanted children in the old world, and she definitely doesn't want one now that dead people are coming back to life and eating people. Babies are just noisy _things_ that can only be taken care of. They can't fight, they can't run - they can't even _fucking talk_. And yet, _and yet_ -

Jane shakes her head, looking back ahead of her. If Clementine wants to look after the baby, more power to her. Saves the de facto leader of the group the hassle of having to worry about it. Except when Clementine's taking a nap, and Jane's put in charge with it. Then… _blech._

The two figures trudge further into the night, their shivers increasing in tempo as the snow starts to fall heavier and heavier. Clementine looks bitterly cold, her teeth clattering, and Jane looks down at her boots sadly. She can't help but feel sorry for the scrawny little girl, the sight of her freezing form spurring the older woman to try and find a source of warmth for her.

"You keeping up okay?"

"Mmhmm," Clementine hums, rocking the baby slightly as she walks. "My arms are kind of tired."

"Need me to hold it for a bit?"

" _Him_ , Jane, not -" Jane waves the argument away with a flick of her wrist, a tiny smirk on her features. She holds out her arms slightly, and Clementine tilts her head.

"D'you want me to, or not?"

"You'll just drop him when he pukes," Clementine points out, a tiny giggle coming from her mouth. Jane shudders just at the thought of listening to the baby retching as the viscous liquid bursts from it, and she finds herself shrugging.

"If you're so desperate to tire your arms out, be my guest."

"I like holding him. He's cute."

"He's _disgusting_."

"Jane!" Clementine scolds, looking hurt. The baby gurgles, and the little girl rubs circles on the little boy's back. The little girl narrows her eyes at the short-haired woman, who arches her eyebrows.

"What? All he does is -"

"He's growing up."

 _We'll see._

Jane shakes her head, continuing down the trail and focussing on the path ahead. Her mind casts backwards, however, the rest stop swimming into her mind. Images of Kenny pressing against her, shoving her against the glass and digging his fingers into her throat. The horrible look in the man's eye. If looks could kill, and all that.

Looking back on it, Jane feels more and more disgusted about the situation she'd created. While the conclusion to the fight had been horrific, everything about it must have been pretty damn scarring for the eleven-year-old as well. Watching as Kenny went into some berserker-like rage, only stopping when he had a bullet in him… Jane can't even begin to imagine.

And it's all her fault.

She shakes her head, physically dismissing the thoughts. The past is just that, the past. She can't kill herself over it. It's over. Done. Finished. She just has to make the best out of it, for her _and_ for Clementine. Jane supposes she's been doing that for a while, though. Making the tough decisions for them, calling the shots here and there. Telling the little girl the harsh truths about the world, and helping her do the hard things.

The minutes murmur past, the oldest group member looking at the forest around her with a keen eye. Anything that can keep the chill off will do, at this point. Her proverbial prayers are answered when the shape of a log cabin slowly starts to form in the gloom. A small thing, but at least she won't get coated in snow while she catches forty winks.

 _Finally, something's going right._

She turns to look at her younger companion, a gentle smirk playing on her features. The little girl looks at the cabin, her shoulders slumping slightly. Jane looks between the cabin and Clementine, confused. The little girl's eyes drink in the cabin for a few moments longer, before she lets forth the tiniest of sighs.

* * *

"Ow."

"Try not to squirm, Clem."

There's a pause, where the little girl sits as still as she can. The woman slowly moves the peroxide drenched rag back towards her, hoping Clementine will do as she says. It's clear that won't be the case, however, as when the cloth makes contact with her wound again, Clementine lurches away suddenly and lets out a pained yelp.

"Ow!" Jane chuckles, a genuinely warm noise, as Clementine rolls her shoulder, before she gives the little girl a few seconds to collect herself.

"You're gonna need to stay still, or this will take way longer," Jane tells her, putting on a gentle tone of voice for the sake of the eleven-year-old. The candlelight flickers wildly - _ach_ , nearly at the end of its wick - and the woman lets out an aggravated huff. "Wait there okay?" Jane squeezes Clementine's bare shoulder, and she nods slowly.

The skinny woman stands quickly and crosses the cabin, scowling towards the melting candle with perhaps more fury than it deserves. But if it did it's _fucking_ job, she wouldn't be annoyed. She reaches for a fresh one, lighting a match and watching the flame for a moment. A smoke would be really good, right about now. Or a drink. Either would be pretty solid. Jane sighs, lighting a new candle and blowing the old one out.

Clementine is staring out the window while Jane crosses the room towards her, taking her original place behind the plucky eleven-year-old. She picks up the rag, watching Clementine cautiously from behind. She seems to be in a whole different world, counting the stars while she waits for the pain to come again. Her hat is being twisted in her grip, the hatband making the same crinkling noise as the velcro comes undone and is then resealed, over and over again. Jane's never seen the girl with it off before, and can't help but smile a little as she starts to talk.

"Heh, I knew it was a smart haircut."

"Thanks," Clementine mumbles, a small smile tugging at her lips. She giggles slightly. Clearly, she's thinking of something that's tickled her. "You're not going to put gum in it, are you?"

"I hadn't planned on it," Jane assures the small girl, laughing quietly. "But don't give me any ideas."

The smile fades slightly as she inspects the wound, replaced by a pained grimace. It's not infected - at least, she doesn't think - but it definitely doesn't look healthy. The hole in her shoulder has crusted blood clinging to the outside, and around that the area has gone a hideous shade of purple and a little swollen. The woman sighs audibly, delicately dabbing the cloth at the wound. Clementine hisses in her breath, but to her credit she barely wriggles this time.

The two sit in near silence, Jane occasionally audibly groaning or whispering something to herself when she catches a full look at the wound and Clementine occasionally asking if Jane can stop for a moment.

"Jane?" Clementine pipes up as the woman in question starts cleaning out the wound again. The woman gives an affirmative hum, showing she's listening, and the little girl pauses for a little moment. "What's it really like having a sister?"

That question catches the twenty-three-year-old off guard, and for a moment she retracts the cloth and thinks about that one. The eleven-year-old looks over her shoulder guiltily, her lips tugging down and her eyes widening.

"O - Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"No, no, it's - it's okay," Jane says, in a voice which suggests anything but. She takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile, remembering her younger sister fondly. That is, despite the choice she made at the end. "Well, it's like I said the first time," she mutters, going back to cleaning Clementine's wound. "It's easy to be mean. You sort of just… play pranks on each other, and stuff."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed," Jane observes drily, taking another look at the gaping wound and wincing. Clementine gives a little shrug of her shoulders, her stubby pigtails bouncing slightly with the action. A tiny smile works onto the woman's face.

"Sandra used to say it was different to that," Clementine tells her, her voice becoming a little bit like a squeak as Jane presses the cloth against the wound. The woman wrings the cloth out into the bowl resting precariously on the couch, letting the girl talk as she wets the rag again. "She said she always got along with her sister."

" _Sandra_ was probably lying," Jane teases, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "Nobody _always_ gets along with their sister. That's kinda like saying there are guys that are _always_ nice. It's just, y'know, false."

"Luke was -" Clementine starts, but stops talking suddenly. Jane winces at the name 'Luke', but doesn't say anything. She knows how much the farm boy had meant to the little girl. The poor guy, spent his last couple of days looking over at Jane like a puppy that had lost its master, wondering why she refused to even breathe in his general direction. He definitely deserved better than drowning in an icy lake.

No words come to the young woman, so she just keeps her mouth shut and focusses on fully cleaning out the _disgusting_ wound. Clementine sits almost completely still, looking consumed by her thoughts, and Jane can't help but feel it's her fault. If she hadn't made that stupid comment, she wouldn't be thinking about this shit.

"How d'you get that?" Jane asks, indicating the bandages on Clementine's left arm. It looks like a nasty injury, judging by how much of her forearm is completely covered in the thin cloth things. The little girl looks down at her forearm, fiddling with the bandages self consciously.

"A dog," Clementine mumbles, her golden eyes glued to the floor.

"A _dog?_ " Jane repeats the words, sounding incredulous. Her eyes are widened, and she pays undivided attention to the girl as she slowly moves the cloth in circles around the wound. Just to make sure.

"Before I met Lu - _uhm_ \- the others, there was this dog called Sam. He tried to take my food."

"And - ?"

"I tried to take it back."

"Ah," there's a beat of silence, when neither party speaks. "Definitely not your smartest move, then," Clementine pulls a face of indignance, fidgeting as Jane dabs the wound with the drenched cloth. The little girl frowns, clearly thinking of a suitable response. A wicked grin spreads onto her face when she seems to find one.

"Says the person who _ate glass_."

" _Tch_ , you're not going to let that go, are you? I was, what, thirteen? Maybe even younger."

"You still ate glass, though," Clementine laughs, a wide smile on her face. Jane clicks her tongue, moving the rag away and reaching for the bandages.

"Nobody's perfect."

There's a gentle silence as Jane sets about dressing Clementine's wound, carefully wrapping a clean set of them around the sensitive area. She mumbles out a ' _sorry_ ' whenever she hears the little girl hissing her breath in as she ties them too tight. Jane decides to just sit in silence and concentrate on covering up the wound. Better to do a job quickly than take twice as long while trying to distract your makeshift patient.

The little girl sits patiently, shuddering every now and then when Jane's cold hands touch her bare skin. The woman apologises whenever she flinches, a truly guilty look on her face. She supposes it's mostly her fault, the more she thinks about it. She shouldn't have convinced the little girl to steal supplies from the scared teenager on the observation deck. But, hey, she's her own person. They both made this bed.

It's just unfortunate that the little girl is the only one to lie in it.

"There you go. All done," Jane talks as cheerfully as she can. Which isn't very cheerfully, considering she's just seen Clementine's hideous wound. The little girl smiles, fiddling with her hat a little more. She looks a little uncomfortable, fidgeting. "We'll need to check that soon. When we get to Howe's, I'll clean it again and redress it. Just to make sure."

"Thank you," the eleven-year-old fiddles with her hat some more, twisting it awkwardly in her grip. She wriggles, the bandages digging into her young skin making her fidget in a way that looks more than a little uncomfortable.

"Yup. You should, uh, get dressed and get to bed. Lots of walking, tomorrow," Jane tells her friend, rocking back on her heel. Her tone is uncertain, a perfect mirror to her facial expression. Clementine nods, heeding her advice hastily while the woman looks out the window pointedly.

The forest that surrounds them seems devoid of life, undead or otherwise. The woman peers into the gloom, hoping the forest stays that way. While in the old world, she may have appreciated the snow - hey, at least she'd have an excuse to not go out - she borderline fears the freezing weather. Despite the benefit of the walkers moving way slower, there are far too many disadvantages. It plays tricks on your eyes, slows you down as you start to get colder, makes your clothes get drenched when you warm up. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

As Clementine zips up her jacket, the sounds of a baby crying reaches both of their ears. Jane sighs, watching as the little girl dashes into the room where the baby is wailing away, hastily fixing her hat on her head. The eldest of the three travellers hooks her thumbs through her jean belt loops and ambles after her little friend, not looking thrilled as the baby cries louder still.

 _God, just shut the fuck -_

"I think he's hungry," Clementine mumbles nervously, bobbing the baby in her arms. Her wide eyes find Jane, who's standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Do - do we have much baby food left?"

"We barely have enough for us, let alone for -" the woman immediately goes quiet, regretting the words as soon as she's said them. Clementine's eyes have gotten, amazingly, even wider. Jane is very quiet indeed, meeting the little girl's eyes but not saying anything.

"W - What do you mean?"

"Uh, n - nothing, nothing. Just, _eh_ , making a joke," Jane forces an uneasy chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck. Clementine looks up at her older friend, looking genuinely worried. The baby's crying goes on _and on,_ but for a few moments the little girl heeds him no mind, paying full attention to her only talking friend.

"It's not very funny, though."

"It's -" Jane sighs, looking down at her friend uncomfortably. "Just drop it, Clem, okay?"

"But if we don't have any food …"

"I didn't say we don't have _any_."

"But we don't have much?"

Jane can't believe she's arguing semantics with a little girl, and folds her arms. The little girl in question frowns back at the woman, looking genuinely upset. Their eyes remain locked for a moment, the older of the two wriggling under her friend's piercing gaze. The look in her eyes is one of hurt, and the message she's trying to send is readily obvious.

 _ **Why are you lying to me?**_

Her gut twists at the little imaginary voice talking in her ear, considering what to say.

"We'll be fine," her attempt at reassuring the girl, despite being a pathetic and half-hearted thing, seems to somewhat do the job, judging by the small girl's matching smile. "We've not come this far to not be."

"Does AJ have enough?"

"Probably," Jane eyes the baby apprehensively, as if nervous that the bundle in the little girl's arms is listening in on their conversation. "I dunno how much they need to eat. Might just have to feed it - I mean, him - less."

"Okay," the little girl holds the baby close with one arm, her other bunching up into a small fist and rubbing at her eyes. "Could - could you hold him while I sleep, please?"

"I …" the woman's hesitance shows, her tone uncertain and her face looking like she's just been told to perform surgery on the little boy, as opposed to the simple task she's been entrusted with. She watches the baby with a look of mild horror, and Clementine sighs.

"You've held him before."

"And he's puked _every_ time."

"He doesn't puke on me, you must be doing it wrong," a tired, sly smile has worked onto Clementine's face. Jane smirks, rolling her eyes and shaking her head with an amused chuckle.

"Hmph, I'm pretty sure he's chucked up on you once or twice. I think I can still remember you yelling ' _ew ew ew!_ '" she waves her hands slightly, a mocking gesture as she put on a higher tone of voice. "Just sayin'," the girl's nose wrinkles, and the woman takes on a triumphant look. Said look fades when the little girl holds out the baby for her. She hesitates, not wanting to hold the _thing_ close to her. They're so… disgusting sounds about right.

"Please?"

And there are the puppy dog eyes. _Damn, she's good._

" _Agh_ , alright, fine," Jane finally relents, easing the baby out of her scrawny friend's arms. "You try and get some rest. I'll just …" she looks down at the child, staring at him worriedly. "Watch him."

* * *

Jane rubs her eyes, the wooden chair digging into her back in an incredibly uncomfortable fashion. The heel of her palm pushes against her half-closed eyelids, a futile attempt to ward off the inviting embrace of sleep. Little Alvin Junior is curled up in her lap, the woman begrudgingly granting him shelter there while she watches over Clementine. The girl had been freezing, shaking like a leaf in the bitter cold, and so Jane had taken the liberty of tossing a blanket over her. She's not got a heart of stone, after all.

She rocks back in the chair, wriggling a little more. Her fingers lace together, intertwining in a confusing jumble. She _really_ hadn't envisioned this being where she'd end up - looking after an eleven-year-old and a two week old baby, hiding from the undead, all before the age of thirty. _Mom and dad would be real proud._

Shuddering at the thought of what her parents would say, were they here now, Jane brings her attention to the little girl sleeping a little ways away from her. Every now and then, the girl mumbles something, and the woman strains to listen. She's not really sure why. Maybe just to get a better insight into what she's thinking, seeing as the eleven-year-old is at best a puzzle. And at worst…

"Don't leave…"

The words make Jane jolt, sitting bolt upright as she watches Clementine breathe the words in her sleep-ridden state. The woman's eyes are huge, fidgeting in the wooden chair as she watches her little friend. Seeing this more innocent side to her is bizarre, to Jane. The side she'd never seen, until after Kenny was shot by her. The side that whimpers at night and clutches some old photo close to her. She'd tried to catch a glimpse of what was on the photo when she'd first noticed it in Clementine's hands, and all she could make out was some guy. Probably her dad, or something.

Again, the words rattle around in her brain, an eerie echo that reminds the young woman too much of her long gone sister. She'd been helpless in the days leading up to … what happened to her.

She can still remember Jaime saying almost the exact same thing every time the older sister would go out to look for supplies, or to get a lay of the land, or even to have a sneaky smoke or drink if they had any on hand. The pleading look in those brown eyes they shared as she grabbed her arm, tugging her back. Begging her to not abandon the younger sister, and Jane either tearing her hand free and stalking out or relenting and sitting next to the longer haired girl as she clutched her arm like a vice.

One thing that Jane remembers with perfect clarity is that, if she stayed with the younger sister, she'd have to do the stupidest shit to get her to sleep. Whether it be quietly reminding her of their old favourite movies, telling her stories about her _extremely brief_ time in college, or even - and her stomach twists whenever she remembers it - humming old songs that Jaime liked.

Hey, what are sisters for?

She's shaken from her thoughts suddenly at the sight of Clementine sitting up in the tiny bed, the blanket wrapped around her like a cloak. Her scrawny form is shaking like a leaf - though, in Jane's mind, the girl is shaking enough to be worth several leaves, at this point. Both survivors stare each other down, not entirely sure what to say. The little girl looks frightened, the nightmare clearly disturbing the little figure, while Jane mostly just looks worried.

That look of worry intensifies when, after about a minute of staring, the little girl buries her face in the blanket. She chews her lip, unsure of how best to act in this situation. Comforting her _seems_ like a good idea, but that's - _blech._

Time to not make it weird.

"You, uh, want to talk?"

"No," her small voice is filled with defiance, and Jane arches an eyebrow curtly.

"Oookay, that's fine."

"Is -" Jane can just about make out a strangled hiccup, and she swears she feels her heart melt a little. "Is AJ okay?"

"Uh -" a quick glance down at the baby, the infant, the _brat_ , reveals he's still at the very least asleep. "I - uhm - I think so?"

"Could I hold him? Please?" Clementine's voice is nervous, for _some_ reason, and Jane almost eagerly holds the baby out for the little girl.

"I didn't want him in the first place," she's not just referring to the current situation and, judging by the slight flash in Clementine's eyes, she recognises this. Immediately, Jane regrets her words, and bows her head to avoid meeting the little girl's eyes. She's half expecting the little girl to scold her, but the worry is unwarranted as Clementine starts to coo for the baby.

She draws her knees to her chest, practically curling up in the wooden chair as she watches Clementine bob the baby with a tiny smile on her face. The woman feels a smile of her own crossing her face, if only for a second, as the small smile grows into a warm grin. She rocks the tiny human in her arms, looking hugely grateful for the baby's presence. Jane cocks her head to one side, watching her little friend curiously for a couple of moments.

"Feeling better?" the little girl gives a tiny nod, and Jane's smile returns. "Good. That's, that's good."

Silence fills the gap in their conversation, enough for the eldest of the two to be quietly - some would say _silently_ \- grateful. She starts humming, an old tune she doesn't _fully_ remember, but it's enough to keep her amused. Clementine's eyes dart to her and Jane, suddenly self-conscious, stops her noise making almost immediately. The golden-eyed little girl watches the woman, tilting her head in that innocent way that only _she_ can.

Without the humming, the room is eerily quiet. Jane rocks herself on the chair, her poise garnering a little more heat than the way she'd been sitting before. Man, she wishes she'd kept the blanket for herself, right about now. But seeing Clementine's form bundled up in the blanket makes that thought fade, and the smile gracing her features threatens to spread into a full on smirk. She ducks her head, not wanting to be caught grinning like a fucking idiot.

"Jane?"

"Mm?"

"Can - can I stay with you? Please?" Jane falters at the request, almost cricking her neck at how quickly she glances up from her boot's laces. Her hands half-heartedly tug against the thin rope, thinking hard. The girl is staring at her with wide eyes. "I don't … I don't want to…" her voice trails off, the usually confident tone replaced by that of a frightened girl. The sound of it has Jane pausing, watching Clementine worriedly.

"I, ahh…" Jane fidgets on the wooden chair. The creaking breaks the silence, filling that fragile void with an irritating noise that the woman finds oddly comforting. The little girl rocks the baby, sitting with the blanket curled around her. Jane's head is tilted to one side, watching her small friend for a short - _heh_ \- while longer. She lets out a resigned sigh, her lips pursing as she regards the girl.

"Please?"

 _You owe her a whole lot more than your company._

The thought is but an imaginary whisper in her ear, and yet it's enough for her to relent and hesitantly perch next to the girl who's sitting on the tiny bed. They stare at each other with wide eyes, both seemingly surprised to be in the situation they've found themselves in. Jane wriggles, the bed creaking again. A tiny smile creeps onto the girl's face, but it disappears almost immediately. The woman's lips tug down, watching the girl in her company with saddened eyes.

"You, uh, you _sure_ you don't want to talk?"

"I don't know…"

"You dunno if you want to talk?" Jane smirks, tilting her head. Clementine looks up, another little smile on her face. The baby reaches up, interrupting their conversation as it gurgles. The woman eyes the little lump nervously, expecting it to cause issues. Its hand smushes against the little girl's nose, said girl letting her smile widen for the baby's sake.

"I was just thinking."

"Not the safest habit."

"You said that, before."

For some reason, the grin on Jane's face returns at the little aside from Clementine. _She remembers._ A sense of something like pride flares in the woman's chest, a nice change from the lacerations searing. She shifts, nodding as she waits for the girl to continue. The eleven-year-old is staring up at her, though, as if inviting her to say _something_. Hesitantly, Jane clears her throat, and starts to talk again.

"You, uh, wanna talk about what you were thinking of?"

Clementine seems to be mulling that one over, rocking the baby close to her in an almost possessive way. The little _thing_ seems to be simply thrilled by this turn of events, giggling and wriggling as the girl holds him a little tighter and looks at her friend with sad eyes. Her mouth opens, then shuts. Her features fall.

"Tell me. It's okay."

"It's just…" Clementine hesitates, wriggling from her perch, before looking up at Jane and mumbling out a name that has a shudder run down the woman's spine. "Sarah."

 _Ah._

Jane fidgets. It had been _her_ idea to abandon her, at the trailer park. Poor Clementine had tried _so_ hard to convince the teenager to get up and run from the walkers. But some people are just beyond helping. Still, that probably doesn't help the girl rest any easier. Hell, she still thinks about it, and she's seen some real _shit_. Can't begin to imagine what that'd do to a girl Clementine's age, even if she's hard as nails. She's surprised the little girl hasn't melted down from all this shit. Mind you, Jane had worried she _might_ after Luke fell through the lake. _He didn't deserve that._

But she's kept on the straight and narrow, doing the tricky shit that a girl her age just _shouldn't_ have to do. Including what happened to poor Sarah. The teenager's pained screams play in her mind, the frantic cry of _'Clementi -_ ' before her throat was ripped out having the woman pause to gather her thoughts. The eleven-year-old is looking miserably down at the baby boy in her arms, swaying him gently.

"I couldn't have saved her. R - Right? I - I _had_ to leave her…" Jane sees where this is going, and shifts herself so that she's looking at the girl's eye level. The girl is looking at the wooden floorboards, refusing to meet Jane's - or even the baby's - eyes. Jane sighs through her nose, taking a long breath

"I don't think you could've saved her. Even if you _did_ get her out of there, that doesn't mean you would've _saved_ her."

"But I should have _tried -_ "

"You _did._ "

"Not hard enough," Clementine sounds bitter beyond her years, as if she's actually an adult trapped in a kid's body. Though, Jane supposes that's what it takes to survive. Kids can't be kids, grown ups - as it were - are the only survivors. Still. She shouldn't be … _thinking_ like that.

"Clem…" her hand is carefully laid on Clementine's shoulder again. Not a firm grip, like back in the forest, but more … tender. Caring. "You can't … I mean, it was the same with Jaime, and …" she trails off, Jaime's poor face flashing in her mind. Brown shoulder length hair, bloodied clothes, tears spilling from her eyes. The little hands clutching her jacket, crying at the things they've seen. Their final moments, Jaime's silence as Jane yelled at her. _I'm so sorry._

"It's myfault…"

"It's no one's fault. People like Sarah, they … they aren't _meant_ for this world," Jane's sorely tempted to continue, to argue that Clementine has done the poor teenager a favor by leaving her to die. But uncertainty stays her tongue, not wanting to risk drawing the ire of the girl. _Heh_ , scared of a little girl. "It's _not_ your fault, okay?" Jane, out of other ideas, settles for moving her hand up and down the girl's shoulder as she says that, hoping that Clementine's taking _this_ lesson onboard. A lesson in grief.

"Maybe…" Jane feels her gut twist at the miserable look on Clementine's face, that monstrous feeling of guilt, that is with her more than it isn't, rearing its ugly head. She squeezes the shoulder, hoping to elicit a warm response from the girl, but is met with more silence. Her teeth dig into her lower lip as she shifts her hand from Clementine's shoulder, and they go back to sitting in silence. Before all _this_ \- ' _this'_ being her living 'situation' - silence was a shroud. Something like a comfortable blanket for her to hide beneath, safe from walkers and bandits. Now, however, with the girl wiggling next to her, she's not quite sure silence has ever felt so uncomfortable.

A cursory glance out the window reveals the weather outside has only gotten angrier and more frantic. The earlier snow has whipped into a frenzied storm, the delicate snowflakes lashing out the windows of the cabin. Jane shivers, the candle flickering in the corner doing nothing to instill a sense of warmth. But that _might_ just be to do with the paper thin walls of the cabin, rather than a lack of effort from the source of light.

"How 'bout you try and get some sleep?" Jane tries her best to put on a cheery voice, her often crisp and cutting voice replaced by something nicer for the time being. "I can, uh, keep ya company," she squeezes the girl's shoulder briefly, a smile on her face as she retracts the hand. Clementine watches the hand go with something like sadness in those eyes of hers, a twitch forming in Jane's stomach at the look on her face.

"Are you going to leave?"

"Hadn't planned on it," she's happy that she's at least being honest there, smiling wryly down at the scrawny kid next to her. "'Less you want me to."

Clementine shakes her head, a wordless response to the half-sarcastic offer. The girl wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her little jacket, the article of clothing rustling against her skin. The baby gurgles at the noise, his huge eyes staring up at Clementine before shifting to Jane. She shudders, gritting her teeth and wriggling.

Still, the girl seems to be satisfied enough with her surroundings, cuddling the baby tight to her and easing her eyes shut after shuffling back against the wall the bed is pressed against. Jane maintains her vigil on the edge of the bed, watching the snow fall with a half wistful eye. Memories, those tricky things, dance through her mind, and for a few seconds she's powerless to resist them. Her little sister squealing in her ear, bouncing up and down in her pink rain boots, begging and begging for five minutes with her in the snow.

" _We - We'll build a snowman, Jane, and we can have a snowball fight, and make snow angels and -" Jaime's recounting their de facto itinerary on her fingers, looking at the eighteen-year-old with huge eyes. The older sister shakes her head, going back to her book._

" _It's freezing out there, forget it."_

" _But it never snows here!"_

" _... So?"_

" _Y -You n - never spend time with me! Please, Jane?" the girl looks on the verge of tears, tugging at her hand desperately. Jane sighs frustratedly, looking out the window for a moment. She comes to her decision, rubbing a hand over her face for a moment. The things she does…_

" _Agh…" a frosty sigh punctures her sentence, Jane begrudgingly sitting up. "Where're my gloves?"_

Her brown eyes find Clementine, breathing slowly in and out with the baby cuddled close to her, and her lips tug down for a moment for the kid that barely got a childhood before all this.


	2. Butterflies

A/N: Thank you to Fanfiction user **ForeseeObstacles** for beta-reading this chapter. I can't thank you enough for all your help.

Another 'thank you' to everyone who gave some fort of feedback for the first chapter - be it reviews, favorites or follows - your feedback is what propelled me to keep writing this through a difficult time. _T_ _hank you._ If you enjoy this new chapter, be sure to let me know in some way, it's so invigorating to read through your feedback.

With that said, 'happy birthday _'_ to me - at the time of upload, April 18th, it's my birthday - and I'll see you in May for the next upload. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I'm ecstatic to finally be sharing it with you all. Hopefully you'll share in that excitement, a little.

\- BHBrowne

* * *

 _ **Secret Sisters**_

 **Butterflies**

" _Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you."_

 _\- John Irving_

* * *

 _"What are you doing?"_

 _"Getting lost in thought. Not the safest habit to have, these days."_

Clementine shakes her head, shaking herself from her self-imposed reverie. Looking just to her left, she spots a butterfly, and a tiny smile eases onto her face. Orange and black wings contrast wildly with the dreary backdrop of the wooden 'floor' - or what's left of it - and the dark greenish-brown shades of the forest below. She hates to admit it, but she misses the snow that had clung to the trees and the ground last night. It's dangerous, yeah, but it's… fun. Sometimes. Not the ice, though.

Her friend's pleas to turn back, to leave him on the ice and wait on the other side of the lake, ring in her ears. She shuts her eyes, not wanting to think about it, only to hear the words around the campfire play in her ears. Their promise to go back for each other. And in a way, he had. He _had_ come back for her, in the inky blackness of the freezing water, ripping the walker away from her, making to climb out of the lake with her. And then…

"What're you looking at?"

Footsteps have Clementine whipping round, spotting Jane perched awkwardly in the doorway to the cabin. The harsh motion has the butterfly taking flight, fluttering away with anxious motions, and Clementine watches it go with sad eyes. Her heart rate settles, now that she knows the source of the gentle _clunk_ noises, and she looks back out over the forest as she hears the footsteps draw closer. She can't hear little Alvin Junior wriggling and squirming, so concludes that Jane must've left him in the cabin. Her gaze goes back to the butterfly, trying to spot it in the early morning sky.

Violet and orange shades collide in the sky, the sun pushing back against the dark shroud of night. _The twilight hours,_ as her mom had called them. The air is crisp and refreshing, a little colder than Clementine is comfortable with, but she's not sure she should complain about that, all things considered. She's been colder. The trees swish and sway in a gentle breeze, one that occasionally gives way to a much louder wind and has the girl clutching the wood she's sitting on as tight as she can, for fear of being swept away by gale force winds. Far below, she swears she can pick out the stumbling motions of a couple of walkers - but from this distance, it could be _anything._

She glances to her left, where the butterfly was, and sees Jane tucking her legs towards her chest. A friendly smile is sent her way, one Clementine hesitantly returns as she looks back out over the forest. The woman next to her sighs audibly, fidgeting. The wood creaks, _just_ so. For a moment, both girls pause, as if expecting the wooden structure to give way beneath them. Wouldn't be the first time. But, despite the blowing wind and additional weight, the cabin 'balcony' - or what's left of it - seems to hold.

"Didn't think you'd be up this early," when Clementine doesn't respond, Jane sighs again. She hears the woman shuffle a little closer, before clearing her throat. "If you want to talk, I'm… _here,_ " Jane doesn't sound entirely certain of that proposition, even though she's the one saying it, but for whatever reason a smile reaches Clementine's face at the words.

"I was just … thinking."

"Yeah?" Clementine nods in response, looking across at her friend. Her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. Her short hair ruffling with the breeze every couple of seconds. Her cheeks tinted a faint shade of pink from the chilled wind. A faint smile on her face as she looks at Clementine, one that's warm and genuine. A nice change from the scowls she'd gotten when they first saw each other, in the pen. "What were you thinking about?"

Clementine just shrugs, looking out over the forest with a watchful eye. She mulls over that question, not really sure on what she _was_ thinking about. Butterflies, mostly. So she looks at Jane, a hint of embarrassment in her voice as she owns up to what she was thinking, "B - Butterflies… and stuff."

"Butterflies?" Jane's lips curve into a slight grin, clearly amused by the girl's words. Clementine dips her gaze, not wanting to let her friend see the blush that crosses her face and turns her cheeks a delicate shade of red. After deliberating for another couple seconds, Clementine nods bashfully, not meeting Jane's eyes. The woman clicks her tongue, not saying anything in response to the silent motion of assent as she chews over that answer. The girl fidgets a little, the heat in her cheeks still persisting. "Like, the insect?"

"It's dumb."

"You're telling me," Jane's chuckle sounds a little like a mutter, Clementine watching as her friend grins across at her. What she _doesn't_ expect is when the woman clears her throat and keeps talking. "Jaime, she uh… She'd keep 'em in a jar."

"Really?" Clementine looks over, watching her friend with wide eyes. The woman brushes just under her eyes with the heel of her palm, the look on her face reminiscent of someone close to tears. But, aside from the brief look on her face and the shuddering breath she takes before she talks, she seems to be in control. _Just_. Clementine can't help but notice that Jane's smile is smaller now. But in some ways, more… genuine.

"Yeah. She, uh, she had all these glass jars with them in. All over her room. She'd keep 'em for a week, then open the jar, free it, and catch a new one to replace 'em. She'd name _every single one_ ," Jane shakes her head, that weak grin on her face growing a tiny bit. "Could hear her catching them from my room, used to drive me crazy. I remember once, just for the hell of it, I snuck into her room and let a few of the suckers out - y'know, just to see how she'd react?" Jane chuckles faintly, swiping a thumb along the corner of her mouth as she talks. "She, uh, she wasn't happy. Made me promise to help her catch some more."

"Did you?" Clementine's smiling, looking at Jane carefully. The woman laughs again, weaker this time, blinking as she looks over the forest. Her arms loop tightly around her legs, but for some reason she doesn't think that Jane's hugging herself because of the cold.

"Yeah. Trick was to sneak up on them with the net," she looks like she wants to say more, but settles for one of her signature frosty sighs, a clearing of her throat and a swift shaking of her head. _Don't wanna talk about it._ The eleven-year-old feels her smile widen at the sensation of the sun rising a little higher, pushing back the violet shades and replacing them with a fiery orange. It's an oddly clear day, cloudless and cool. Much better than the freezing cold days further north, when the others were … still with her.

In her mind's eye, the rest stop is reconstructed. The biting cold, her shoulder searing. White snow tumbling around her, the sogginess on her knees. A wrinkled hand holding hers, slick with blood. Kenny's hoarse whisper, _'you're always good for a smile…'_ as he slipped away. Her vision blurring with tears, watching as his eye closed for the last time. His last words to her playing in her ears over and over again. And then it's Jane's voice in her ears, the image of Kenny's body still in her mind's eye as she hears the woman's broken begging, _'please… I did it for you, Clem. For us. We're free, now.'_ The mixture of emotions she'd felt, of anger and betrayal, but also the desperation of wanting to have someone else to just … be there. All the nice things Jane had done for her, along with the bad, intermeshing into a confusing collage as the little girl spoke up. _'I forgive you, Jane'._

Snow fades, replaced with blue ice. Cracks. Hoarse whispers replaced with frantic yelling. Her friend Luke hollering to her, one foot submerged in the inky blackness. _'Clem, look at me! Get out your gun, and shoot them damn walkers, okay, just gimme a little time!'_ Kind words play in her ears, the man's last yells forgotten while she thinks of him. Instead, it's his toast on his birthday that whispers in her ears, _'to the loved ones we've lost along the way. And to the hope that we see them again, someday.'_ His chattering teeth audible as she inched towards him, reaching out a hand for her loyal friend. Why did he have to go?

The scene changes, shifting into a dingy jewelry store. Lee. His breathing croaking and weak, his eyes yellowing. His skin turning greyish-blue, his bitten hand held limply at his side. His whisper quiet yet at the same time deafening in the otherwise silence of the jewelry store. _'You're gon' see bad stuff, but … it's okay.'_ The look in his sickly eyes as he looked at her with the faintest of smiles on his faces, a murmured _'don't be afraid'_ being all he had left for her. His eyes meeting hers one more time as she raised the pistol at his forehead. Him bowing his head, his eyes shutting and his smile fading as he took a deep breath. The crack of the gunshot. Lee's ragged last breath.

"Warned you it wasn't a safe habit," she looks over, the jewelry store fading from her mind as she shakes her head, and spots Jane watching her with a knowing look on her face. The woman gently pats her back, the hand lingering as her smile softens around the edges and she rubs a circle in the area she had patted, something that has the girl smiling slightly. While not sure she made the … _right_ choice, she's happy that Jane's here.

They sit this way for a while, Clementine quietly grateful that the baby in their care isn't making a peep from inside. It's nice to not have to worry about him, if only for a little while. Although, with that said, she does _like_ being able to look out for the bundle of hope. More than can be said for her friend, who seems just as relieved as Clementine is that AJ is being quiet. Though maybe not for the same reasons, judging from her behaviour towards the infant.

"We should get moving," Clementine speaks up quietly, looking to her friend with wide eyes. Jane nods, looking out to the forest with pursed lips. The hand retracts, wrapping back around her legs. They both make a shuddering noise as the wind ups in tempo for a moment, Clementine shifting her arms to wrap around herself while Jane curls up a little more. The chill wind passes, and both girls look at each other. They share a nod, and push themselves to their feet.

* * *

A granola bar is dropped in front of her, making Clementine look up. "Breakfast, eat up," Jane's voice is cheery, if forcibly so, as they eye up the wrapped up treat. "Look, Clem, I know it's not _ideal_. But it's, y'know, food," her pale and slim hand pushes the bar towards Clementine, the eleven-year-old reluctantly picking up the food and fiddling idly with the wrapper. It crinkles audibly, setting Clementine's skin on edge as the packaging squeaks and squeals in her grasp.

"Thanks, I guess…" Clementine's voice is sullen, her fingers idly picking at the wrapping around the bar. Her chewed nails cling to the thin material, making the girl flinch whenever the jagged … _things_ snag against the papery material. Jane clearly notices the tone of voice Clementine has, the woman's lips tugging down and her tone softening around the edges as she slowly talks.

"You, uh, you're not _allergic_ , are you?" Jane blinks owlishly at her, Clementine cocking her head to one side. Jane reaches over, taking the packet off her and squinting at the back of it. "'Cause if you're, uh, allergic to peanuts, I'll have to go find you someth -"

"I'm not allergic…" Clementine's voice is little, and she watches as the food is put back in front of her. She remembers the last time she was asked something like that, back at the drugstore in Macon, and looks down at the wooden floor. She kicks her feet back and forth, her head bowed. "I'm just…" her voice trails off, something Jane, again, seems to pick up on. The elder of the two pauses for a moment, but Clementine doesn't feel like filling the gap. Jane, therefore, clears her throat and slowly speaks up.

"You're just?"

"I'm not hungry…"

She supposes that's only a _half_ lie. She's hungry, but she doesn't want to… eat. Everything just seems so shi - uhm, bad - and the idea of eating seems like a huge task. Everyone that's gone, everyone that _she's_ gotten hurt, and she gets to just sit around and eat. That doesn't sound _right_ , to her. Clementine's shaken from her reverie by the sound of an unimpressed sigh.

"Yea, you are. Haven't seen you eat _anything_ since that can of chili…" she pauses, her eyes softening as she looks out the window of the cabin. She clicks her tongue. "I'm gonna get the kid, you're gonnaeat," the order is said with a hint of sternness, but mostly with an - almost - warm tone. "Gonna need the energy. Lot of walking, today. So _eat._ "

"But I'm _not_ hu -"

As if solely to argue the point, her stomach growls. Clementine wriggles, not sure what to say as her cheeks turn pink. She hears a faint chuckle from the woman standing opposite the table, and watches as Jane shakes her head slowly, a grin curving her lips. Resigned to eating, the girl starts fiddling with the wrapper, letting out a quiet grunt. _Stupid thing!_ Why do they make chocolate bars so hard to get into, anyway? Besides, this isn't even a _chocolate_ bar, it's a stupid -

Clementine fidgets, looking at the determinedly sealed packet, before awkwardly holding it out for Jane. The woman's smile falters for a moment, her brown eyes darting to the granola bar, before quickly plucking it out the girl's hands and shifting it into her own grip. The packet makes a crinkling noise, the woman almost effortlessly peeling the foil open and handing it back to the girl.

"Thank you…" the little girl bows her head, not meeting Jane's eyes as she unravels some more of the wrapper and reveals her breakfast. The brownish bar held within doesn't look… great. Doesn't even look edible, on closer inspection. But her stomach grumbling angrily has her relenting, taking an - admittedly tiny - nibble off the end of the bar. Clementine watches as Jane, seemingly satisfied with the girl's effort to eat, looks to the ceiling before trudging towards the staircase of the cabin.

"I'm gonna get the kid. Eat up, Clem."

"Please don't get mad if he pukes," Clementine doesn't mean for her voice to sound so tiny and miserable, but it comes out like that. To try and counter the voice, she looks over her shoulder at the woman, watching as Jane shakes her head at the foot of the stairs and throws a knowing look in the direction of the little girl. Said girl feels a small smile tug at her features, and that looks like it's enough for Jane to nod and make her way up the stairs, muttering to herself all the while.

Left just with her thoughts and a _gross_ granola bar, Clementine hunches over the table and takes another munch out of the food. _Yuck._ The eventuality of actually starving to death has the girl braving another bite, ignoring the crappy taste of the food. _People ate this stuff?_ The stale bar does little to fill her stomach, but it's better than nothing, the more she thinks of it.

Clementine takes a look around the room, making sure Jane isn't anywhere to be seen. The conversation from the last night bounces around in her head. _'We barely have enough for us, let alone for -'_

But she was just joking, right?

Another furtive glance around the room, taking another nibble off the granola bar. _Gross._ She can hear Jane's footsteps upstairs, slower. Hesitant. She's probably quietly approaching AJ, hoping that she doesn't wake him up and risk him screaming the house down. Clementine gets up carefully, placing the granola bar down on the table and creeping towards the green duffel bag Jane had withdrew it from.

With tentative movements, Clementine reaches for the zipper of Jane's bag. She takes another look over her shoulder, not quite able to shake the memory of when she'd dip her hand into the cookie jar on top of the fridge when it was just Sandra in the house, except replacing something innocent like a cookie jar with food she _needs_. Although, back then, she'd really _needed_ a cookie. After what what feels like hours have passed, but is likely only seconds, Clementine peels open the zipper of the bag and takes a peek inside.

What's inside - or rather, _not_ inside - makes her heart sink like a stone. _Oh, crap._

Besides the blanket she'd found on herself the night before, Clementine is horrified to find that there's not nearly as much inside as she'd been hoping for. A tiny amount of bandages, a near empty bottle of _per_ \- peroxide, a can of what _looks_ like beans, a half empty bottle of water, a packet of baby formula and - is that _rum?_

Worry bubbles in her stomach, making her eyes widen as she gives the bag an anxious shake - as if hoping a hidden compartment will burst out and reveal a stash of supplies. _Where's the medicine and stuff, the stuff we took from Arvo?_ Clementine stops searching at the thought of what happened on the observation deck, Jane pointing a gun at Arvo and Clementine agreeing to … to take his things.

 _ **Just another bad thing you've done.**_

A little voice in the back of her head, a sly and nasty one, murmurs the thought, and she feels a chill run down her spine. Clementine tries to ignore the niggling thought, to push it away and not dwell on it, but that only seems to make it worse. She shakes her head sadly and lets forth a tiny sigh at the same time, staring down at the bag with a pair of huge eyes for another couple of seconds. Her tummy hurts, but she doesn't think it has anything to do with the tiny breakfast she's had.

Hearing the baby crying upstairs is enough for the girl to step away from the bag, zipping it up hastily and pressing it back to how it looked like before - at least, she _thinks_ that's how it looked before. She checks her surroundings one more time, before darting out the kitchen area and towards the stairs. Her feet creak loudly against the wooden floorboards, but she ignores the noise as she pads up towards the source of the crying.

It doesn't take her long to figure out which room the crying is coming from - mostly because, as it turns out, the room Jane and Alvin Junior are residing in is the same room she'd slept in the night before. The door is ajar, revealing Jane standing over a cardboard box, begging quietly for it to _'shut up and stop squirming',_ her hands awkwardly positioned over the object _._ Clementine creeps into the room, staring up at her friend.

"Jane?"

The woman twists around, her eyes widening - almost comically so - when she locks her brown eyes with Clementine's. The little girl takes another step into the room, blinking at the intensity of the stare. Jane seems to realise this, looking back to the box and folding her arms. She huffs, shaking her head ever so slightly, before swinging her attention back to Clementine as she starts to talk.

"Oh, uh, Clem. _Hey._ "

"Is - is AJ - ?"

"He's, ahh -" as if on cue, the baby starts wailing again. Clementine darts around Jane, easing the boy out of his 'bed' and cooing in his ear, a gentle lullaby as she bobs him up and down in her arms. The babies crying becomes quieter as she does so, the baby getting less and less agitated the more Clementine hums. Jane watches with an odd look on her face as she does so, one that relaxes into a small smile as she seems to notice Clementine looking at her. "Already a natural at that, huh?"

Clementine gives a little shrug at the comment, mindful of the living cargo in her arms. The baby boy gurgles sleepily, clutching at her jacket with chubby fingers. The feeling of her jacket crinkling under the tiny human's grip brings a genuine smile to her face, cuddling the baby a little closer. She's quietly grateful the baby isn't crying any more - despite being _really_ cute, he can definitely be a bit of a whiny jerk, sometimes. Only when he's hungry, though. It's not _that_ bad.

Speaking of hungry…

The near empty duffel bag swims in Clementine's mind, Jane's fib from the night before whispering in her ears. _We're going to starve. AJ's going to die. Jane's going to die. I'm going to -_

"I looked in the bag," Clementine blurts it out without even meaning to, immediately biting her tongue a little as she looks up at her friend. Her mom had always said that being honest is its own reward. Clementine somehow doubts she'd say that, however, if she saw how Jane quietly reacted to the truth. She doesn't even look _mad_ , just … worried. Her tall friend blinks, then tilts her head. Her lips part, her eyes widen. _Worry._

"I, aah…" she lapses into silence, scratching at the back of her neck. "Yeah…"

" _Wuh_ \- Why didn't you - ?"

"It's not an issue. I'm not worried, so you don't _need_ to be, either," Jane's statement, though clearly forced and hastily mumbled, does a little to settle Clementine's jangling stomach. A small smile is on her friend's face, one the little girl returns hesitantly. "We'll be fine, like I said."

"We should try and find more stuff, though," the little girl cradles AJ closer, shushing him quietly as he whines at the conversation being held right next to his delicate ears. "We _need_ more stuff for AJ."

"We're close to Howe's," Jane assures the girl, smiling weakly. She props herself against the window sill, hissing as her leg bangs against the hard object and rubbing her face with tired motions from her hands. "Bonnie said they have baby formula. We just gotta make it there."

The baby's coughing continues, Clementine bobbing him and down worriedly. She's fairly sure she hasn't heard him cough like _that_ before, which only makes her heart pound a little faster and harder. Her gut twists when she notices the baby's eyes have gone a little red, and Jane's anxious fidgeting from the back of the room only worsens the sensation. _AJ's fine, he's not sick._

" _Shuh_ \- Should AJ be coughing like that?" Clementine glances up at Jane's face, and sees the disgusted look lining her features at the thin trail of yellow-ish stuff AJ's coughed onto the blue jacket she's wearing. The lack of a response makes Clementine wriggle, and after several seconds she clears her throat, raises her voice a little and speaks up again, "Jane?"

She blanches, then catches herself. Jane squints at the child for a moment, before giving a small shrug and attempting what looks like a small smile. "It, uh, probably just has a cold."

"Babies can get those?"

"Probably," the woman is eyeing up the baby in Clementine's arms with a pair of wide eyes, her arms tightly folded over her chest. Her hands are gripping her jacket clad arms, rubbing them up and down with slightly chattering teeth. "I don't blame it -" she falters under Clementine's glower, clearing her throat. " _Agh_ , him. It's _freezing_ up here."

"Yeah…"

"Still, closer we get to Howe's, warmer it gets," Jane lets out a pleased sigh at that, making Clementine glance up. "Less chance of us catching colds, or - _brr_ -" she shivers audibly as a breeze whistles in through the window, the hairs on Clementine's arms standing on end. "Uh, yea - less chance of dying from exposure, too."

"Tha - That can happen?" Clementine immediately cuddles the baby a little tighter to her. The thought of poor AJ _dying_ because he's living in the wrong place makes her feel, if anything, _more_ possessive over the poor boy. Jane winces.

"Uh - well… yeah, if you're _really_ unlucky," she's talking quickly, chewing her lip. "But, y'know, we'll be fine. Just best not to take any chances, y'know?"

"I guess…"

"You _know_ ," Jane corrects her, but not harshly. Clementine looks up, tilting her head to one side at the nice tone of voice. She's not upset that Jane's being nice to her - she'd be upset if, after everything, Jane went back to how she _had_ been when they'd _first_ saw each other - but she's also kinda… surprised. Clementine didn't think bad people could be happy - or as _close_ to happiness as you can get after shooting someone - and yet people being nice to her would … say otherwise.

They stand in this fashion for a while longer, Clementine not quite sure how to 'end' this conversation - is that the right _word_ for it? She doesn't know. Lee would've. But he's not here. _Because of y_ -

"We should get moving," Jane's voice is the one that pierces the silence. Clementine nods slowly, shifting AJ in her grip. "Gonna need to find some food on the way. Speaking of," the woman's voice is a little shrewder as she observes the little girl holding the baby. Clementine dips her gaze. "You finish breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry, you can have it if you -"

She hears her friend laugh gently, shaking her head all the while. Jane eases away from the window, smirking. Slowly, carefully, the woman lowers herself to a crouch, Clementine observing the pained grimace that shoots across her face for a moment. "Well, if we're gonna get to Howe's _soon_ , might be best to plan our route, right?"

"Mmhmm…"

"So, if you want to help -"

"- I _do_ -"

"- you'll need to be working on a full stomach. So _c'mon_ ," Jane chivvies her towards the stairs, but Clementine catches the small smirk on her face. _Maybe everything isn't so … crap._ "Downstairs, and eat up. We got work to do."

The promise of a plan being enough to bolster her spirits, Clementine makes her way downstairs and back towards the kitchen she had ran from. Hesitantly, she picks up the granola bar she had abandoned before racing upstairs and takes a little nibble off the end, still holding AJ close. The little noises he's making have stopped being cute, now, and are instead kinda … _scary_ , in a way. Instead of little giggles and cooing, it's instead sneezing and sniffling, and coughing like crazy. She hums in his ear as she takes another bite of the bar, waiting patiently as Jane perches on the other end of the table.

Her eyes sweep around the spacious room, her shoulders slumping. Luke and the others should _be here._ It shouldn't just be … just be her and Jane, and AJ. Everyone should be with her, and they should be heading back together. Not just her last friend and a baby. That's not fair. Is it?

Neither of them speak for a _long_ , long time, with the noises from AJ being the only sounds in the room. Jane is looking at the bag with pursed lips, as if upsetby the contents - or, um, _lack_ of contents - but that's not weighing on Clementine's mind. The thing Jane had said about 'exposure' or - or something like that - that's not … real, right? Babies can't die from … being cold? When she'd fallen through the lake, trying to rescue Luke, and Jane had pulled _her_ up from the icy depths, she'd been freaking out. Yelling across the lake, and croaking out about how _'she's going to fucking freeze to death!'_

Without any other ideas, the little girl licks her lips and starts speaking.

"We should keep our eyes open for something for AJ. Like… baby medicine, and food, or something," she trails off awkwardly, cuddling the baby who would _need_ the medicine close. Jane clicks her tongue, a hand plastered against her thigh as she nods slowly.

"Yeaaa, that'd be an idea," she bounces her leg - the one that isn't stabbed - while she talks, her eyes narrowing as she squints out the window of the cabin. "We'll get back on the trail, try find a map or something, figure out where we are. Can't be _that_ far out, now."

"How far?"

"Couple days, I think. We'll be there before too long," Jane smiles down at Clementine, the girl struggling to return the gesture. She hasn't really… _said_ it, to Jane, but Howe's isn't something she's too keen on. What if the people there held off the herd, and they're just waiting for her and Jane? What if Mike and Bonnie are going there, too? What if the walkers aren't all dead? _What if, what if, what if…_

But without anywhere else in mind, the eleven-year-old has simply embraced it. Well, maybe not _embrace_ , but what else can she do? Jane's … all she has. That revelation makes the fire that had been burning in her belly, the one that spurred her to help make a 'plan', die. She has _one_ friend left, and a baby in her care.

That's not … that's not _right_.

* * *

The cabin had been a nice break from sleeping in the forest but, as with all good things, their time there has come to an end. Getting attached to it had been… _dumb_ , especially since they'd only been there for one night. But it'd been nice to have a proper bed, and a place to … to forget the crappy stuff, but also to _remember_ the good stuff. Or, at least, the good people. Not that there are many of those left.

Behind her, the trail just goes on and _on_. Hours of walking has left the cabin far behind them, the drawers and cabinets all turned out to find _anything_ they might need. A faint mist clings to the forest ground, making it hard to spot much of anything, out there, but she still tries all the same. Back in her treehouse, before the walkers and all the _bad_ stuff, she'd try and do a similar thing. Peer out into the woods that surrounded her house, and try to pick out animals. Mostly just squirrels and the occasional raccoon.

Definitely not monsters.

"Clem?"

 _Huh?_

She looks over, tilting her head. Jane is standing further down the trail, her lips tugged to one side. Her right hand clutches her gun in a vice-like grip, her brown eyes flitting into the forest where Clementine had been staring into mere seconds ago. The little girl wriggles her shoes into the ground, the mud and sticks and _stuff_ shifting with audible crackles and crinkles under her sneaker-clad feet.

"You hear what I said?" Clementine's response is a mute one, shaking her head. Jane sighs audibly, and even _visibly_ as a white cloud of frost appears in front of her mouth, before looking down the trail. "C'mon, stay close," she shifts the gun, and Clementine nods. She twists her own weapon, the same thing she'd used to … _Nnn…_

 _'She wouldn't hurt a fly…'_

 _'You have to shoot me, honey…'_

 _'You made the right choice…'_

The three voices, the people she's … killed, they all talk in her ears. The strange man's quiet and miserable voice, Lee's pained whisper, Kenny's gentle reassurances. Even years after shooting the man and Lee, she can still remember every tiny detail. _Every detail of the worst day of your life._ She bows her head, looking down at the cheerful little boy in her arms, and her heart sinks a little more as he sneeze, greenish-yellow smears appearing on the little girl's jacket. _Ew._

"He's sneezing _again_ -"

"- fucking _disgusting -_ "

"- he's not really _really_ sick, right?"

The question makes Jane come to an abrupt stop, Clementine slowing to a halt herself. She watches as the woman slowly pivots on her heel, looking down at the baby with a hesitant air about her. Her eyes oddly wide, her lips pressed tightly together. She looks at the baby for a couple seconds, her hand leaping to the back of her head. Clementine can hear the _scratch_ sound Jane's nails make against her hair and scalp. Jane looks up, meeting her gaze, and the little girl can tell immediately that the smile on her face isn't a _real_ one.

"Naaah. Like I said, probably just a cold," Jane doesn't _quite_ meet her eyes as she talks, Clementine frowning slightly. The little girl sighs, and gives a little shrug. Her shoulder sears at the action, and she gasps as she nearly fumbles AJ from her grasp as the arm attached to the shoulder goes stiff. _Oh shoot -_

AJ starts crying as he nearly slips from Clementine's arms, the girl wide-eyed as she cradles him close, whispering apologies into his ears desperately. Jane takes a step towards her, holstering her pistol and looking to the forest with something like a grimace. She mutters something under her breath, before sticking her arms out for the child. Clementine cocks her head to one side, confused.

"Rest your arms," her tone is _way_ softer, but the look on her face isn't the look of someone who's … comfortable. "Don't want you straining that shoulder."

"But -" her protest is cut off as, with a hesitant movement, Jane plucks the child out of Clementine's arms and awkwardly holds him. A tiny grin comes onto the girl's face at the look of horror that lines Jane's, the normally fearless friend wriggling awkwardly as she holds the _adorable_ baby close. "He's … he's not a bomb, Jane."

"Huh?" the baby is shifted to the crook of her right arm, her left sweeping a loose strand of hair out of her face with a hasty motion, before clumsily and loosely shifting AJ back into both arms, "Yea, Clem, I know."

"But … you - you're holding him like he's a bomb," a tiny giggle comes from her mouth at the stupid sentence, but it seems Jane is _not_ sharing in her amusement, her eyes only growing wider as the baby whines. She takes a tiny step towards Jane, the woman looking down at the wrapped up baby with a confused air about her. Her brows raise and she lets out an uncertain mumble, already jiggling the baby a little as he squirms in her loose hold on the child. Clementine gets the distinct feeling that Jane regrets this idea already.

"Uh…"

"You just have to -" Clementine stands on her toes and helps Jane hold the baby, focussing on making sure the baby's head is supported properly - like Rebecca had told her to do. To her credit, Jane does more or less what she asks, save for the actions being slow and cautious. The baby gurgles at the more comfortable position he seems to be in, reaching a chubby hand out for Jane's jacket zipper. Clementine ekes out a nervous grin and looks up at Jane, expecting to see a similar look on her face.

She doesn't smile.

"Right, well… _ahh…_ " Jane shifts her arms, the baby cooing and reaching for the silver zipper again. The woman shudders ever so slightly. "Just, uh, rest your arms, and I'll -" the baby sneezes, acting as an immediate interruption as Jane cringes at the snot and … stuff now clinging to her jacket. She looks down at the stain, making a noise that kinda sounds like a retch. " _Gross…_ "

"You like him really…"

The claim is met with a frown from Jane, the girl looking to her sneakers. Judging by the audible inhale from above, she does _not_ 'like him really'. The eleven-year-old wiggles her arms, trying to get feeling back into them, especially the one that cramped up not moments before. Sounds of the baby whimpering, followed then by half-hearted shushing from her friend, has the girl peek up ever so slightly.

"Let's …" Jane jerks her head down the trail, Clementine nodding mutely as she falls into step next to the skinny woman, keeping her thoughts to herself. Thoughts of gunshots, one-eyed men and snowstorms.

Without having AJ to talk to inanely, the little girl finds herself more than a little lost. _We probably_ are _lost,_ she thinks to herself with a tiny sigh. _Great._

Her feet ache as she drags them along, every step feeling like several as she tries to keep up with Jane's longer strides. Jane seems to notice this, looking over her shoulder with the faintest of grins on her face. Clementine feels one sneak onto her face, trying to match Jane's pace with many little steps to try and keep up. _How does she walk so fast?_

She watches Jane move, her lips tugging down at the slight limp her friend has. For a moment, the little girl wonders if the two injuries feel similar - she knows her shoulder _really_ hurts, after all. If they do, however, Jane doesn't show it, moving with only the smallest amount of hesitation. The melting snow wets the little girl's sneakers, Clementine changing course and instead treading in her friend's footsteps. _Might be a little less damp._ The song Sarita had sang at the ski lodge swims into her mind, the nice woman's voice sounding distant as she tries to remember the Christmas carol.

 _Oh, how did it go?_

Clementine wriggles her arms, giving up on remembering the little song and instead on keeping an eye out for walkers. The surrounding forest spreads out for miles, and she shudders a little bit. Her confession to Lee on the train, about _really_ not liking the woods, seems relevant right about now. Almost as if on instinct, she gets a little closer to Jane. Her friend picks up on the sudden closing of the gap, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"See anything?" she asks lightly, uncertainly shifting the arms that are cradling the baby. Clementine shakes her head, and Jane sighs. The baby gurgles from his perch in Jane's arms, the little girl smiling a little at the non-sneezing noise from the boy. Jane doesn't share in her happiness, it would appear, visibly cringing.

"Are we going to be walking for long?"

"Probably. Might have to stop in a bit, this leg being - _hrk_ \- the way it is," she grunts, dragging her leg along, and Clementine feels herself wincing.

"I don't mind, if you need to stop…"

"Should be good," Clementine counts out six steps before Jane talks again. "Do _you_ need to stop?"

The little girl doesn't respond straight away, continuing to tread in her friend's footprints while she chews the inside of her cheek, trying to figure out if she should be honest about it or not. Her feet don't hurt as much as yesterday - but that's not really saying much. She inhales through her nose and mumbles out three words.

"... Maybe a little," she feels the same heat in her cheeks she'd felt earlier when she hears Jane chuckle, a warm noise. _It's not … that funny._

"Figured," Jane's attention returns to the baby in her arms, Clementine hearing half-hearted shushing coming from the woman that drown out the baby's grizzling. "Well, uhh, we'll find a place to stop in a bit, okay? Can't stop for long, though," her old tone of voice shines through as she says that, Clementine remembering the brief conversation her, Jane and Rebecca had had after escaping the herd that surrounded Howe's. The then-stranger urging them to keep up the pace. That was … days ago. Feels like weeks - no, longer.

"I know…"

"Yeah. So…" they go back to silence, Clementine feeling her shoulders slump a little more and her heart sink in her chest as she remembers the last time she'd asked to have a few minutes of not walking. When she had left the cabin with Luke's group. But it's not … not _that_ conversation that sticks with her - despite the funny joke Luke had said about bicycles being tired, or something - and instead the one they'd had on the way to the bridge, when the friendly man had tried to explain why Carver was chasing them.

 _'What's the most important thing in this world? What does everyone want? Even the gangs? Y'know, what do you think they're all after?'_

 _'Family.'_

 _'It's a tough world out there, without people you can trust.'_

Clementine looks at Jane, remembering Luke's words with a sad frown. _What does everyone want?_ Her eyes widen ever so slightly, realisation dawning on her, her lips tugging upwards a little. _Maybe that's what Jane wants, too._ She considers that as she walks, remembering back to when they escaped Howe's, when it was just her and Jane approaching the trailer park, and Jane was telling her about her long gone sister. _Maybe._ Shaking her head, Clementine sighs, before putting on a tiny jog to catch up to Jane and match her pace.

Worry gnaws at her, the fear of seeing two particular people at the destination enough for her to look up at Jane with fretful eyes, desperate for someone like Lee to hold her close and tell her everything is going to be okay. But it's _not_ going to be okay. Lee had tried to say it would be, back on the RV. He'd promised he wouldn't … wouldn't _leave._ But he did. Maybe Jane will be the one that … that doesn't die. The one who _can_ reassure her, and make things okay. It's worth a try, right?

"Jane?"

"Mmhmm?"

"What if … what if Mike and Bonnie are at Howe's?" Clementine mumbles out the words, looking up at her friend with huge eyes. The thought has been … _with_ her for a while, now. Since Jane had come up with the idea to return to Howe's. She'd liked Bonnie, more or less, before she tried to steal their things and leave the group. Even then, Bonnie was nice. Nic _er_ than Mike and … and Arvo. Her shoulders slump a little at the thought of the Russian teenager, her lip quivering. _I wish I hadn't stolen Arvo's things._

Jane looks down at the little girl with a faint smile, shaking her head, and that's enough for Clementine to tilt her head ever so slightly. Her friend seems to find that a little amusing, chuckling through her nose before talking in gentle tones.

"They won't be. Promise. They wouldn't want to risk running into Kenny -" her eyes widen, and she looks away, her eyes shutting. She whispers something to herself, before looking over her shoulder with guilty eyes. Clementine looks down at her sneakers, a horrible feeling bursting in her chest at the mention of the man she shot. Something more than grief but not … not regret. Kenny had _told_ her she'd made the right choice, so that has to - it has to mean something. He wouldn't lie about that, right?

 _Right?_

He was going to kill Jane, she knew that - it was obvious, even before the fight, that _something_ was going to give, their argument in the truck evidence of that. Kenny threatening to 'end' her, Jane yelling that he was a 'bomb waiting to go off', both of them ignoring the girl's hysterical pleas to stop yelling at each other - all the signs pointed to the car journey having an unhappy ending. But she could never have predicted that Jane would hide AJ from the man, and that the only way to save her friend would be to -

"It'll be safe," Jane pulls her from the thoughts, the eleven-year-old jumping a little bit. "Just trust me, okay?" she smiles faintly, Clementine half-heartedly returning the facial expression before looking back at her feet and heaving out a slow sigh. The little girl wishes it was that easy. To just be able to … to trust her. Despite everything, though, the little girl takes in a deep breath through her nose and gives a little nod.

"Okay."

* * *

Despite Jane's earlier promise, it's night time by the time they get some much-needed rest. After finally locating a place which isn't out in the open, it had taken a little while for the lock to be carefully picked, Jane constantly having to stop as her leg would seemingly flare again in pain, swearing angrily whenever she stood from her crouched posture, but the end result is good enough. A quiet shed at the back of a quiet house, in a little neighborhood that Jane insists isn't too far from Howe's. Clementine's just glad she's sitting in another place which has a _roof._

Fidgeting, the girl sighs. Her feet hurt like _crazy_ , the dampness in her sneakers and pants only making the sensation more uncomfortable. Jane had looked really crappy when she'd sat down, having handed AJ off to the little girl some hours earlier, slumping against the wall she now sits against and groaning quietly to herself, her eyes sealing shut as her hands clamped over her leg. Clementine had quietly asked if she'd needed anything, warranting her friend to shake her head and mutter out something about getting some rest.

Curled up in the corner of the little shed, it's safe to say the little girl feels more than a little relieved to be off her feet. Her muscles feel loose and wavy, her mind is lazy, and yet she just _can't_ get to sleep. Thoughts upon thoughts are dancing through her mind, nightmarish images painting themselves for her to stare at with horror - Luke drowning in the lake, Kenny tumbling from the gunshot, Lee with a bullet in his brain and blood _everywhere_ \- and then she's no longer tired, and instead sitting bolt upright with AJ held close. It's been like this for _hours_ , now.

She sits up, AJ cooing at the sudden motion, and looks to her right to try and spot her friend in the gloom. Clementine can hear her humming, the same tune as she'd heard her humming the night before - she _knows_ she's heard it from somewhere, but can't quite remember it - and feels a tiny smile on her face as she shuffles as quietly as she can to her friend, still holding the baby tightly in her arms. He's still … sneezing. Her heart hammers against her chest at the noises, and she hopes - _really really hopes_ \- that he gets better soon.

"You're still up," Jane's voice makes Clementine jump, looking over to see her friend smiling weakly from her seated position not too far away from her. Clementine nods, earning a single chuckle from Jane. There's a beat of silence, her friend fidgeting against the hard wall. "Shoulder?"

"It hurts when I lie down…"

"I can imagine," she comments drily, fiddling with her bandage. The girl winces, a tiny pang of regret bouncing around in her mind. _Of course she'd know that, she got stabbed - twice._ Clementine makes out her figure sitting up a little more, hears her jacket rustle against the splintered wood that makes up the walls, a quiet gasp as the injured leg seems to stick out at an uncomfortable angle. The little girl's eyes stare at the bandage she'd tied around her friend's leg not long after the 'incident', something Jane seems to notice. _She's okay, right?_ "It'll be fine."

All she has to respond to that is a tiny nod, before looking back at the baby boy in her arms. _Will_ he _be fine, though?_ He doesn't look _great_ , his skin a little pale and his nose still runny. As she bobs him up and down, trying to keep him happy as he rests, her mind replaces his happy smile with gnashing jaws, his brown eyes with soulless orbs, his chubby fingers with bony claws… Shaking her head firmly, she squeezes her eyes shut. AJ's a survivor. He'll be fine, she knows it. She _knows_ it. It doesn't stop the wriggling in her tummy, though.

 _Please be okay, AJ, please…_

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

"No…"

Jane fidgets again, her jacket rustling against the rugged wood as a bit of the leather seems to snag. The garden shed is quiet. Serene. Every noise sounds so _loud_ , when it's this quiet. They haven't risked building a fire - Jane had been insistent that the cons outweighed the pros, when it's just two people, and that with it being such a small place they could get _car-bon mon-ox-side poisoning_ , or something … like that - so the quiet surrounding them is undisturbed. The objects that once inhabited the small room - a rake, a shovel, wooden barrel, stuff like that - have been dumped outside, Jane wanting as much room as possible to sit down.

"Is it just your shoulder, or …" she leaves the question hanging, her voice dying in her throat. Clementine looks away for a moment, shifting a hand from the baby to her shoulder and wincing. She chews over various answers that flutter into her head, wanting to just … talk. But the words don't come, so she gives a tiny exhale.

"Stuff."

"And butterflies?" Jane's smiling ever so slightly, her head tilting. The little girl looks down at her sneakers, curling in on herself as she sits up, AJ cradled against her. She smiles. "You know, uh, it can be good to … _talk,_ about this stuff," she doesn't sound certain about the sentence, but Clementine notices the way Jane is making eye-contact and holding it. She blinks. "Makes it easier, you know? Not having to…" she looks away for a moment, her teeth gritting and her eyes scrunching shut as she lets out a pained exhale. "Not having to face this _shit_ by yourself."

Clementine considers the claim Jane's made, bobbing AJ up and down all the while. The baby lets out a sleepy noise, something the girl takes as her cue to stop jumping him around as much as she rocks him quietly. She doesn't want to - to face the crappy stuff by herself… She just wants a friend. Someone to - to listen. To _understand_.

"I'm … tired," Clementine starts quietly, chewing her lip. Jane nods, 'hmm'ing quietly as she does so. The little girl shuffles a little closer as a chilled wind drones through the cracks in the wood, threatening to tear the little building down, in Clementine's mind. The breeze that hisses through ruffles her coat and the hat on her head, the girl curling up a tiny bit to avoid getting _too_ cold as she thinks. Jane's sitting still, her head still tilted ever so slightly. Clementine pauses. "And I … I wish the others were here…"

Her friend winces a little at that, her hands knotting together. Her uninjured leg, the one closer to Clementine, is pulled towards her, her arms wrapped around it and her fingers interlocking. _She does that a lot._ The girl observes the posture, watching as her friend looks away while she thinks. She can't help but agree a little with Jane, though - it does help to have … _someone._ The leg Jane is hugging bounces restlessly, the buckles on her boot _click-click-clicking_ together in an oddly rhythmic way.

"They were, uh…" Jane seems lost for words, her leg continuing to move restlessly. "They…" she coughs. Clears her throat. They both lapse back into silence, Jane determinedly not meeting her eyes. Clementine looks away after a few seconds more of trying to make that precious thing - eye contact - again, her teeth raking along her chewed lip as her gaze settles on the thin window above the door to the shed. A thin layer of dust coats the glass - almost everything inside the shed, actually - the thin particles making her nose twitch around.

As she thinks to herself, the girl can't help but wonder if this is what it would have been like, if Jane had said 'yes' when they were on the observation deck, the night of AJ's birth. When she'd found her standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs leading to the deck, fiddling with the metal 'sheet' with furtive glances in every direction.

 _"Ah, shit."_

 _"What are you doing?" Clementine steps a little closer to her friend, her eyes widening slightly. Jane recedes, bowing her head a little._

 _"Listen… I'm sorry. I've gotta go," she crouches down, pulling up the heavy metal shutter as quietly as she can. A gentle squeaking-creak noise follows the door as it scrapes its way upwards, coming to a gentle stop. Jane looks back at Clementine, her lips parting as she makes to talk. The girl inches closer again, though, her eyes going wider still. "C'mon, the longer I stay, the harder it'll be."_

 _"Go? Go … where?" she shrugs a little as she asks the question, confused. Why can't she stay with the group? She doesn't want to … to lose her as well._

 _"Just … away. Okay?" Jane looks down the stairs, but her eyes glaze over a little. "You know… Jaime… Sarah… I'm not going to stick around and … and watch it happen to you too," her eyes shut as she speaks those last words, Clementine flinching a little. Her mouth opens and shuts, trying to find the words to explain what she's - what she's feeling, as a yucky feeling appears in her gut. "You know the score… you're a smart kid."_

 _"But … I thought you believed in me," she swallows as she squeaks out the words, blinking. Jane nods slowly, still not meeting her eyes._

 _"I do…" she finally - finally - looks back at Clementine, a truly miserable look on her face. "But give it enough time, and everyone's luck runs out."_

 _She starts walking away, and Clementine - in her mind, out of other options - darts after her, trying to move quietly to not alert the walkers below, but the - the thought of Jane leaving, on top of everything else happening today…_

 _"Listen, when the shit hits the fan -" her voice has taken out the cold, harsher tone, the one Clementine first heard from her when she approached her group. The girl looks to one side, her heart sinking as the fact of the matter starts to sink in. Jane's going to leave. "Because it always does, remember that you can make it on your own. That's not an option for everyone. If things start heading south, don't let them drag you down with them. You don't owe them anything…" M - Maybe she's right. Clementine thinks of the thing she really wants to say, her heart in her mouth as she looks back to her friend desperately. "They'll make you feel like you do. Like it's all one big happy family. But when push comes to shove -"_

 _"Can I come with you?" she half asks, half begs, hoping that the answer will be … will be 'yes'. The yucky feeling in her gut only gets worse, a nasty voice in the back of her head muttering furiously as she begs Jane with her eyes. In this moment, though, more than anything, Clementine just wants to be … away from the group, from the arguing, and with her friend. The woman blanches for a moment, twisting to look at her. Her brow furrows for a half second as she starts to talk, only to unknot as she, too, seems to realise the finality of the situation._

 _"No. You can't -" her eyes sink, her lips tug downwards, and her voice gets quieter again. "That's not how this works," she doesn't meet her eyes for a moment, and Clementine swears she can see Jane's throat as she swallows. The woman takes a sharp breath, before moving back towards the girl. Has she changed her mind already? "You take care of yourself. I mean that," as she speaks, her hand reaches into her back pocket, and she withdraws a thin metal object. "Here."_

 _The nail file._

 _Clementine looks at it with slightly widened eyes, confused. Jane holds it out for her, inhaling again before talking, each word sounding carefully picked out. "Versatility … is not overrated."_

 _Curiously, Clementine holds out her hand also, gently taking the object from her friend's hand. She twists it in her grip for a moment, observing how sharp it is, before tucking it in her back pocket. "Thanks."_

 _"Yeah," she smiles the tiniest bit, before looking towards the stairs and sighing quietly. "I, uhh… I gotta go," before Clementine can say anything else, her friend has started walking away, taking the stairs quietly. The little girl inches out, sitting down and placing herself in between the guardrails. She meets Jane's eyes again, and the woman gives another tiny smile. Clementine can't bring herself to smile back, looking down at her sneakers. And then Jane's out of sight, and Clementine hears the door shut._

She's staring at her friend with wide eyes, bobbing the baby half-heartedly as she watches Jane. _That's not … that's not going to happen again, right?_ Jane's eyes scan her face, moving the tiniest amount as the dart between her and the baby. Her friend heaves out a sigh, and she makes out her shaking her head a little before looking away. Clementine's thoughts cast back to the night before, the … the nightmare she had. Everyone leaving.

Jane leaving.

She did before, right? Why - why wouldn't she again?

The scary thought bounces around in her head, the thought of being in Sarah's position moments before her death having the girl screw her eyes shut. It's impossible not to picture it. Someone she wanted to be her friend being lifted away, Jane shouting that she can't be saved, Luke peeking down into the mobile home with wide eyes, his hand sticking into the room. Watching from the floor as her last hope is lifted away, the deafening _smash_ of the door flying off its hinges and walkers flooding the room. Wanting to run, unable to move, only able to watch as the walkers…

 _I'm sorry, Sarah…_

Baby AJ coos, reaching a hand out and smushing it against her cheek. Clementine smiles weakly to him, rocking the tiny human and cradling him close. _At least he won't leave me_. Nerves jangle in her stomach as the nightmare plays in her head again, enough for her to swallow and look over at her friend.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?" their conversation is held in whispers, barely loud enough to reach each other. Clementine hesitates, holding AJ tight as some kind of … of shield, or something, as she starts to talk.

"You're - you're not going to … to _leave_ , right?"

Clementine can hear Jane sighing, a slow and steady exhale that lasts for a little while. It's a miserable noise, one that _sounds_ heavy. Despite her face being shrouded in the darkness of the night, she can clearly make out Jane's eyes looking away from her. The woman blows her breath out again, and she can see her brown eyes meeting hers again.

"Of course not," her voice is so quiet, so miserable, that Clementine feels her tummy wriggle. "I didn't - I didn't want to leave _you_ before …"

"But you did…"

Again, Jane pauses. Clementine's watching her with huge eyes. Being able to … to talk, it's kinda scary. Her friend keeps her arms wrapped tight around her leg, breathing slowly. She shuffles a tiny bit closer to Jane, hoping she's not about to get annoyed. Instead, however, she swallows and talks again.

"... Yea. You're right. I did."

High above, way way _way_ outside the shed, Clementine swears she can hear birds tweeting. The pretty noise is more-or-less drowned out by Jane's guilty voice, however, causing Clementine to fidget. She sounds like she did when she _was_ going to leave back at the deck. _She won't again though. She won't. Right?_

"But, you know, that was … that was _then_ , Clem, and this is … this is _now._ And I'm not going to leave, again. _Ever_."

"Promise?" she squeaks out the word, staring at her friend. She trembles a little as she asks that little thing of her, pleading with her eyes for Jane to reply the way she wants - _needs._ Jane looks away, averting her gaze from Clementine for a long couple of moments. She breathes in. Holds it. Lets it out. Turns to face the girl again, and the eleven-year-old finds herself sucking her breath in for a tiny moment.

"I promise," Jane murmurs, a tiny smile on her face. Clementine stares up at her, blinking back tears. The twenty-three-year-old seems to realise how close the little girl is to tears, blinking owlishly and scratching at the back of her neck as she asks the million dollar question. "You, uh, you okay?"

"I don't … I don't _know_ …" Clementine answers finally, tears still pooling up in her eyes. "I just … I want…" she feels them trickle down her cheeks, sniffling audibly. She tries to swallow the tears back, but that only makes her muffled cry louder. Her teeth dig into her lip, trying to muffle the noises, Jane watching helplessly with wide eyes.

"Woah…" she sounds worried as she mutters out the word, _really_ worried, fidgeting audibly for a second before talking gently, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Woah, no, hey, Clem, c'mon… it's - it's okay… it's okay…"

This time, it's Jane that shuffles closer, Clementine glancing up to see her friend looking down with a sad smile on her face. Clementine sniffles and hiccups, wiping her sleeve with her jacket, the article of clothing making a crinkling noise as it rustles against itself. The tears cascade from her eyes as she takes in her friends sad smile, the _fact_ that she has to get her friend to promise not to leave making her gut clench.

AJ's shifted from her lap by a pair of hesitant pale hands, Clementine noticing through water-filled eyes that the baby boy has been shifted to Jane's lap as she lowers her uninjured leg, and she looks up at Jane with huge eyes. The woman looks revolted as she glances down at the child, before shaking her head and looking up at Clementine. Her smile is back on her face, a little wider now, as she meets her eyes. The little girl blinks in confusion when she sees Jane raise an arm off the wooden floor slightly, her tired brain not able to figure out what's going on.

"C'mon," Jane beckons ever so slightly with the arm, her tone gentle and quiet - barely louder than her earlier whispers. Clementine expects her to say more, maybe come up with some excuse for the show of affection, but instead her friend just watches her with a small smile and waits. Clementine blinks one more time, before feeling a tiny sob race through her body, and that's enough for her to move closer to Jane and lay her head on her shoulder, curling up a little bit as she does so.

She hears Jane hiss her breath in slightly, feels her arm shift constantly as she mutters something to herself, watches her friends hand tense a little, then slacken as her arm seems to find a comfortable spot draped around Clementine's shoulders. The hand awkwardly moves up and down her arm, some attempt at a reassuring motion, but it's enough for the little girl to bury her head in Jane's shoulder and do her best not to cry.

"It's okay…" Jane's voice is in her ear, that same whisper sounding so much louder now now that they're closer. "We got each other, right? It's, it's kinda like you said -" Clementine moves her head, her lips tugging down against her will. Jane's making eye contact, smiling weakly as she talks. "Sometimes … sometimes it's good to have someone watching your back, right? In case the bad shit happens, so we can help each other. Just like _you_ said," she gives Clementine a little squeeze, an absolutely tiny thing which the girl finds … comforting. Kinda.

"Ev - Everyone else is _gone…_ "

"But we're still here, right? We're still _here_. We … we have each other. You got me, and I've _got you._ "

Clementine hiccups again at the words, nodding as tears roll down her cheeks. She sniffles, swallows, whatever she can to stop the onslaught of tears. Jane holds her close - or, um, a tiny bit clos _er_ \- rubbing her arm up and down slowly and gently. She repeats the last thing she'd said, _'I've got you'_ , over and over again like some lullaby or mantra, a gentle rhythm to the words as she whispers them.

"J - Jane…" she whimpers her friend's name, desperate for … for some reassurance, or something _like_ that. Something other than feeling as - as _crap_ as she always winds up feeling about everything that's happened. Fat tears roll down her ruddy cheeks, her mind desperately trying to block out the painful memories of the last couple days as they rush to meet her. Jane shushes her softly, her cold hand still rubbing her arm in the same soothing way.

"I've got you… it's okay…"

For a while, Clementine just lets the tears flow, Jane's shoulder being much more comforting than she thought it would be. _Probably better than_ my _shoulder, right now._ Her stomach hurts, but she doesn't think it has anything to do with being hungry as she whimpers into her friend's shoulder. But at the same time, a warm feeling blossoms in her chest - _she promised._ She hiccups, a bit like after she'd tried that drink Jane had let her have at the fire, and she hears - and practically _feel_ \- Jane chuckle quietly.

"Better?" Jane's voice pierces the silence that's made when Clementine stops sniffling. She nods against her shoulder, her face making the leather of Jane's jacket rustle audibly. "Good… that's good," the woman runs her hand up and down the girl's arm. "Lemme know if you … need anything."

Quietly, Clementine swipes at her eyes, not wanting to start crying properly and draw walkers to them, before shuffling her arms against herself. _It's so … cold._ The girl considers quietly asking if they can build a fire, but the thought of walkers or bandits … it's not worth the risk. She'd said something like that to Christa, back at their little campsite with the weasel on the spit, when she'd gotten annoyed with the fire taking too long to start.

 _I need to warm up…_

Out of other ideas on how to warm up without a fire, Clementine shifts a little closer to Jane. She hears her friend suck in her breath for a moment, her hand ceasing its movements on her jacket for a long couple of moment. _I didn't do the wrong thing, did I?_ Clementine considers moving away, but stops when she feels Jane's arm loop a little tight around her shoulders, her hand carefully moving up and down the coat-clad arm again. She feels Jane's hand pause, and frowns a little, then realises she's shivering. Something Jane seems to notice, too.

"Cold there, Clem?"

"Maybe a little…"

"Well, y'know, if you need to warm yourself up, I got just the thing for you…" Jane looks to the bag pressed against her uninjured leg, her lips pulling to one side as she looks at something held within. Clementine brings her attention to AJ, the baby boy curled up in Jane's lap and looking seemingly content with his new position. Her eyes flick up when she feels Jane squeeze her a little, noticing what she's holding with wide eyes.

The bottle of rum.

"Oh. Uhm…" she fidgets, a weird feeling in her belly. When she'd … when she'd _last_ had it, Kenny had gotten annoyed with her and told her it wasn't 'right' to be drinking at her age, the man not yelling but sounding _really_ disappointed. But it had been quite … nice, once she got over the horrible taste. How it had felt a little bit like fire in her nose. In the cartoons she'd used to watch, there'd be pink elephants and stumbling around and lots of hiccuping, but it hadn't been like that. She remembers she instead just felt kinda … warm. And sleepy. Really sleepy.

"What?" Jane seems to pick up on her hesitating, looking between the bottle and her with a faint smile on her features. "Might help you get warm," she rattles the bottle enticingly, the liquid within sloshing around audibly. Clementine licks her lips. "Go on. Live a little," she holds the bottle out for her, and Clementine hesitantly takes it, sitting up a little but still keeping close to her friend - _just in case the tears come._ "It's okay."

"H - How much can I have?" Clementine looks up at her friend nervously, her eyes darting between the bottle and her friend with quick and skittish motions. Jane laughs, shaking her head and looking out the window of the shed, her hand still latched onto Clementine's arm. The brown eyes meet hers again.

"Well, hopefully you'll save _something_ for me -"

"Maybe…" she ekes out a tiny smile, earning a shake of Jane's head and a warm chuckle.

"Let's not have you getting _too_ drunk there, tiger," her older friend grins, her voice quieter again as AJ wriggles a little. She doesn't seem to pay the baby much mind, however, instead smiling across at Clementine with a slight look in her eye. _Go on, it's okay. Do something silly. I'm not gonna get mad._ At least, that's … that's what the girl thinks- hopes, maybe - she's trying to say. "Drink. It's fine."

Taking one last glance at Jane, who nods encouragingly, is enough for the girl to raise the bottle to her lips and drink, hoping Jane's telling the truth and that it does, in fact, warm people up. She soon remembers the _bad_ bit of the drink, bringing the bottle away and coughing. Jane laughs quietly, taking the bottle off her, before taking a much longer swig from it herself. She hears Jane's pleased sigh as she places the bottle back in the bag, barely audible over the girl's harsh coughing. All that can be heard for a while is Clementine coughing, her eyes stinging with tears as the gross taste in her mouth, as well as the funny feeling in her nose - _gross!_ \- linger. Over her coughing, she can make out Jane's faint laughter no, wait - she can _feel_ the quiet laugh in her chest, the sensation making her smile a little.

Sure enough, though, Jane is right - after a couple of minutes of just sitting there, waiting, her face starts to feel really warm. Smiling a little more, now, she presses her cheek back against her friend's shoulder. She stays close, the warm feeling that company - nice company - brings in some ways more powerful than the fuzzy feeling in her face. _In some ways_ , anyway.

"My face feels funny…" she feels her cheeks burn - more than they do already - at the tiny confession. _Does everyone feel like this when they drink rum?_

"Probably best you don't have any more tonight, then," she hears Jane's voice from above, the teasing undertones to it, and nods in agreement, her mind feeling fuzzy, too. "Don't want you _too_ hungover tomorrow."

"What's 'hungover'?" again, she can feel Jane laughing before she properly hears it. Clementine shifts her head, trying to find the comfiest spot on her friend's shoulder as she waits for an answer. She's heard the word 'drunk' being used when talking about 'grown-up drinks', but not hun - _hungry? No, no…_ \- hungover.

"Doesn't matter. Sounds like it hit the spot, though," Jane's smiling as she makes the observation, her eyes drawn to the girl's rosy cheeks. Clementine nods, yawning and looking down at her sneakers for a moment, her eyes feeling inexplicably heavy. "Try and get some rest. We walked a _lot_ today."

"Are we - we -" she yawns, balling a hand into a fist and putting it over her mouth. Her eyes shut, and she keeps them closed as she feels waves of sleep reaching out for her. "Nearly there?"

"Yea, we're nearly there, partner," she feels Jane give her a little squeeze as she says that last word, and instinctively the little girl huddles a little closer. This time, her friend doesn't hiss in her breath, instead just running her hand up and down Clementine's arm lazily, the coat rustling under her grip. "Just a couple more days."

"Okay…"

"Get some rest," Jane repeats herself softly. "You need it," through her gently closed eyes, she can hear the soft noise of Jane zipping the green duffel bag shut again, followed by her letting out a deep breath. Clementine nods sleepily, the fuzzy feeling that's in her face spreading to her chest and arms as well, making her feel a little … woozy. Pleasant thoughts go through her head as she just sits there, listening to Jane breathe slowly in and out, lying against her friend and shivering the smallest amount as another cold wind hums through the cracks of the shed.

For the first time in a _long_ time, she hopes this all isn't just a bad dream.

 _'We … we have each other. You got me, and I've got you.'_


	3. Liability

A/N: Thank you again to user **ForeseeObstacles** for beta reading this chapter. You've been an absolute delight to work with, Foresee!

A massive thank you to all eleven reviewers of the last chapter, and indeed everyone who gave any form of feedback. I'm indebted to you, really, as your feedback means _so so_ much to me. Thank you, really. If you do enjoy this chapter, let me know!

Sorry for the delay in updating; exams, real life drama and self deprecation have kept me away from writing for a little while. I think the end result should be worth the wait, however!

 **Warning -** This chapter is considerably heavier than the others, in terms of the thoughts Jane has. There _are_ mentions of extremely heavy subjects, such as attempted suicide and harassment, for example, so do consider that going into this. That being said, I really hope this doesn't detract anyone. It's definitely no heavier than most the stuff in the games, but it isn't as 'fluffy' as the last chapter.

See you all in the next one, and I hope you enjoy

* * *

 _ **Secret Sisters**_

 **Liability**

" _We must respect the past, and mistrust the present, if we wish to provide for the safety of the future."_

 _\- Joseph Joubert_

" _I just mean that … sometimes, you can't protect everyone you'd want to."_

Wriggling, Jane sits up a little straighter, wiping the muck out of her eyes that exhaustion brings about. Even before the walkers, she wasn't… _great_ at sleeping. Booze, cigarettes and drugs'll do that, she guesses. But now, even with a deficiency in all of these vices, sleep is like some elusive cat - only comes around whenever she's not looking for it. Not handy, when you've got all this - this _shit_ pent up, tucked away just under the surface.

Definitely not the most comfortable of places she's slept, a restroom cubicle. Not that she's … _entirely_ a stranger to sleeping in such a place. Usually, though, it'd be with a bottle held firmly in her grip, not a little girl, and there'd be the appalling and overwhelming smell of vomit, not the lingering smell of guts clinging to her clothes. Outside of her immediate surroundings, it's … quiet, ish, save for the occasional _bump_ from the outside world. The door to the bathroom is locked, a vain attempt at keeping any walkers and bandits out while they sleep.

Clementine is curled up against her, a tiny smile touching her cheeks, even in her sleep. Since that night in the shed some two-or-three nights ago, the kid is like some lost puppy who's found its owner, always sidling up to her when she needs some shut-eye. And, hey, the kid isn't that bad for company, all things considered. Especially when she's not been _as_ glum since the shed. Puke McGee is curled up in the girl's arms, his cheeks still a little flushed. _Gotta be a cold, or a fever. Shit._

Her hand rubs up and down Clementine's arm as she leans her head back, exuding a frosty sigh to match her freezing fingers. Reddened and frozen digits clutch at the kid's arm, Jane wincing as she ruffles the girl's arm a little more, if only to _maybe_ get some feeling back in her fingers. Listening to Clementine mumble mutinously as she slowly awakens is enough to bring a small smirk to Jane's face, giving the girl a little more of a squeeze.

"Rise and shine."

It quickly becomes clear that Clementine is many things, but a morning person she is not. A second squeeze is all it takes for the girl's eyelids to flutter up, however, a quiet moan accompanying the gesture. Squirming, she looks up, her brows furrowed a little, Jane biting at her lip to smother her chuckle. Jane listens to the puffer jacket rustle, feels the scrap of a kid shift position for a moment, weight persisting on her shoulder the whole time. Whining noises have Jane look down to the bundle in Clementine's arm, squinting a little at the baby boy whose face is crinkling.

As if on instinct, Clementine starts humming, the same tune Jane's sure she's been humming to herself, and she can't help but smile a little at the thought. Yet another thing she's taught the kid. _God, what is that song?_ Jane racks her sleep ridden mind, turning over various ideas and thoughts, when her eyes widen in recognition. She looks away, towards some scribbles on the wall, her arm still loosely wrapped around Clementine as she lapses into silence. _Shit._

 _Somewhere over the rainbow._

Jaime… Jaime had loved it. Nights spent with her sister held to her, not so differently from how she's got Clementine now, humming that song to lull the kid to sleep - if she wasn't prying herself free and going off to do something else, that is. Her lips tug down at the memory, a lump forming in the back of her throat as she listens to the little girl hum the song to the baby in her arms. Her grip tightens on Clementine.

Over the gentle sound of Clementine's humming, Jane can clearly hear the boy grizzling. Her eyes widen for a moment as she feels the weight on her shoulder shift, the blue brim of Clementine's hat coming into view, even as she makes to look away. Idly, Jane shifts her hand to the back of the girl's head, her nails scratching loosely at the black curls. Shutting her eyes, Jane hears the little girl's tiny giggle, feels her body wriggle a bit with her small laughter. A smile tugs at her lips, the woman persisting with the scratching motion for a couple moments more as she sits against the bathroom stall.

Temptation rears in Jane's mind, unsaid words in the back of her throat begging to be made spoken. Instead, however, she enjoys the comfortable silence, shifting her hand away from the back of Clementine's head. Her fingers flick firmly, grease and small tufts of black hair sticking underneath her fingernails. _Euch._ Her fingernails clear from the muck - well, clear _er_ \- Jane shifts, making to retract her arm from the scrap of girl curled up in her arm. Instead, however, the girl presses herself a little closer to her chest. _Well, then._ Jane's fingers wrap around Clementine's jacket sleeve, the cheap material crinkling a little under her grasp, a faint smile curling her lips. _Not so bad._

"It's cold…" the girl's voice is small, even with her head laying on Jane's shoulder. She can hear the scrap of a girl's teeth clattering together, and clicks her tongue.

"Yea, I know," Jane smiles thinly, rubbing her hand up and down Clementine's arm - a half-hearted attempt to warm the kid up. The girl's smile widens, a little, looking down at the baby in her arms, then up at Jane. The baby whines, its face crinkling as it raises a chubby hand, pawing it against Jane's jacket. She sucks air in through her nose sharply, her eyes wide.

"I think he wants you to hold him," if Clementine's jealous of the fact, she doesn't show it, her tiny smile widening. Jane's feels her smile fade quickly in turn, looking at the bundle of liability that lays in Clementine's lap with pursed lips. The lump whines, pawing at her jacket again. _Guh..._

"Sure he'll live without."

Clementine frowns, a little, those golden eyes scrutinising Jane. She looks away, towards the green bag pressed against her uninjured leg. Save for the practically empty bottle of rum and packet of baby formula, the container - for want of a better word - is empty. Her stomach grumbles, the woman self consciously folding her spare arm over her torso.

"Please?"

Jane looks back at the baby, her lips tugging down. The tiny word rattles around in her head, her heart cracking against her chest. _Probably still owe her a few…_ As if on cue, a chubby hand smushes against her jacket again. Her eyes flit to Clementine, watching as her eyes widen endearingly. _And there are the puppy eyes. Damn, this kid's good._ Sighing frostily, Jane outstretches her hands, raising an eyebrow as the little girl goes _'yes!'_ quietly, as if she's settled a bet or something.

"Sick of him already?" Jane smirks a little, but that tiny grin fades as the baby is transferred to her grasp, the uncertainty kicking in. _You are holding a living, breathing, defenseless human being, that was brought into this world by a mother who wanted a child, and if you drop it - him - Clem will never forgive you._ Her arms loosely clasp around the thing, jiggling him as he coos. Clementine seems to have not noticed the remark, grinning down at the boy. "Gah, why's he … doing _that?_ " she bobs her knee restlessly, watching as the boy grizzles, smacking his lips and making those … baby noises at her.

"He's happy," Clementine mumbles, laying her head against her arm again. Jane looks down at the girl pressed against her, her lips twitching as the conflicting sensations spark and flare in her body. Cuddling a baby? _Blech._ Clementine wanting to sit _this_ close to her, after everything? _Much_ better.

"Glad one of us is," Jane mutters to herself irritably, the boy squealing and pointing up at her face. She feels the weight lift from her shoulder, and looks over to see the girl frowning at her. Not wanting to watch the kid lecture her, she looks back to the boy, the wide eyes and giggling lips of the _thing._ After a few moments, however, she hears a little pained gasp, and looks over with wide eyes. Clementine's hand is clamped over her - still kinda fresh - wound, her eyes clamped shut and her teeth gritted. A pained whimper breaks through the girl's grimace. Jane's heart cracks a little.

"Oww…"

 _Poor kid._

"That, uh, still hurting?" Clementine cracks one eye open, a look of incredulity on her young face. Jane bites back the chuckle that threatens to burst from her lips at the oddly mature looks she gets from the little girl. "Right, yea, you wouldn't be …" she goes quiet, pulling a sympathetic face for her little companion. "It'll get better."

"When?"

For a precious moment, she's sitting in her backyard with Jaime again, when she was younger and shit made more sense, helping the poor thing up after the scrap of sister had fallen over - _hard_ \- and left a nasty gash in her knee. The little sister whimpering and whining as Jane cleaned the wound out, Jane humming for the girl as she wrapped the definitely nasty cut up in the cheap bandages they'd kept in the medicine cabinet. Assuring the girl, half heartedly, that it'll be fine soon, and to ' _please stop crying_ ' so she can concentrate.

Jane hesitates, her throat dry as she remembers poor Jaime's whimpering and whining, both before the walkers and 'after'.All the while, Clementine staring back at her with pained eyes. Jane's mouth opens and shuts ineffectively, trying to find the words to reassure the tough-as-nails eleven-year-old sitting next to her. She licks her lips, feels her throat bob up and down, and coughs to clear it. The weight returns to her shoulder, and Jane shuts her eyes. Takes a slow and steady breath.

"Soon, Clem," she opens her eyes, wriggling her arms a little, mindful of the living _thing_ perched in her awkward hold. "Real soon," she glances over at Clementine, watching as the girl leans back against her arm.

She looks back down at the baby, the little thing blissfully unaware of the horror that awaits when they get out on the road. The walkers, bandits, and whatever other sick shit. And _he's_ just gonna … make it harder for them to get through it. Jane hisses out a sigh, half-heartedly shushing the boy as he squeals especially loudly. _Shut the fuck up._

Clementine nods, heaving out a tiny little sigh. Jane looks over, raising a solitary eyebrow as she notices her little partner shutting her eyes. Clicking her tongue, she shifts the baby into a one-armed hold, the other slipping to the girl's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze.

"Not so fast," she teases, her fingers clinging onto the scrawny shoulder for a single moment, whether it's for her comfort or for Clementine's, she's not entirely sure. The little smile Clementine gives her, however, makes _one_ answer dance in Jane's mind. "We're moving," she cuts through her thoughts, holding the baby out for the girl. Carefully, and with little shushes and whispers from the girl, the boy is shifted from her arms and back to the - arguably safer - perch of Clementine's arms.

Some feeling races through Jane's gut at the sight of the girl cuddling the baby to her, one she can't place. She thinks back to after the … the _shit_ at the rest stop, with that _fuck_ getting his hands on her, shoving and screaming and spitting. _Kenny._ The knife slashing at his gut wildly, the scream of pain and the yelped _'oh my god!'_ she could barely hear as the desire to be _done_ with Kenny took control of every fibre of her being.

Yelling how it was all _his_ fault, on the spur of the moment, pressing herself to her feet and hurtling out the rest stop after him as he clutched at his gut, his one working eye alive with fury. The girl she was _trying to help_ hurtling between them, her tiny hands raised at both of them, Jane's attention shifting to the little scrap of a girl for a half moment before raising back to the guy. Her blood boiling, her hands shaking as she clutched the knife, jittery as she realised how _close_ freedom was.

Pain, pain in her leg. Raw, there for a fleeting moment and an agonising eternity. The sensation prickles in her leg, dragging her from the all-too vivid memory of the fight, instead the aftermath by the truck starts playing in her mind, like some old movie she'd watch with Jaime - probably _The Wizard of Oz,_ something of a ritual for the young girl - the kid held to her chest with one arm and a bowl of popcorn balanced on her knee precariously, sat curled up on the moth-eaten couch as the movie played, the room otherwise shrouded in darkness. Her eyes shut as the biting cold comes back to her, the baby grizzling in Clementine's arms and the look of hurt, betrayal, confusion all lining the poor girl's face. The way she protectively held AJ, taking a tiny step away from Jane as she explains herself.

' _I did it for you, Clem. For us. We're free, now.'_

The way her last … _friend_ had looked away for a moment, chewing her lip and bobbing the baby, tears brimming in her golden eyes plays in her mind. Jane's heart crashing against her chest, staring at the girl and begging for forgiveness, wanting nothing more than to be walking away from that _fucking_ place with the girl in tow. The glint of hesitation in the girl's eyes, and in that moment, the realisation that she - Jane - was only 'second best' was - _is?_ \- all too real. And even now … it's kinda _there._

With a low grunt, Jane pushes herself to her feet, rubbing at her temples as a headache thuds behind her eyes, the low temperature and her lack of sleep pounding away at her head. _Shit._ She looks to her right, watching the girl struggle to her feet while trying to hold the baby in her arms. Clicking her tongue, Jane reaches down and hooks a hand under the scrawny kid's armpit, hitching her up with a grunt - and then a gasp as her legs sears from the sharp movement.

 _Shit-fuck-shit!_

"Jane? Are you - ?" A flash of impatience, fleeting but _there_ \- she can't be dragging them down, _dammit._ She _won't_ drag them down, just 'cause she got herself stabbed in a fight with some stupid, psychotic -

" _Gnh_ -" she bites back the cuss she wants to yell, restrains herself from slamming her fist against the wall. _Not gonna slow her down. Little kid needs all the help she can get through this shit._ Cold air hisses through the ever-so slight gap in her bandage, the chilled and frosty wind attacking the sliced flesh. "I'm… _agh_ …"

She screws her eyes shut, grits her teeth together and hisses in a breath, that horrible sensation coursing throughout the affected limb. Sparks of a feeling not unlike an intense burn. Raw, _agonising_ , debilitating for a precious few moments as the muscles seize and halt. The scream that wants to burst from her lips is restrained with difficulty, the woman swallowing. _Stop. Fucking. Hurting!_

"Is that feeling… better?"

"It's, ah…" Jane has her eyes closed, bright flashes appearing in front of her tightly closed eyelids. "It's better than it … _was_ ," she smiles weakly, cracking her eyes open and looking at the girl. "When, y'know, it was _being_ stabbed."

Clementine ekes out a tiny - probably forced - smile, bobbing the baby up and down and looking at the hole in her jacket - _euch, arm_ \- with a tiny frown on her face for a moment. Jane grimaces, the dried blood that clings to her jacket serving as a powerful reminder - get that checked at Howe's. _Sooner we get there, sooner we can properly patch that up._ That thought alone is motivation enough for Jane, who starts to the door, laying her fingers on the door handle. She glances over her shoulder, flashing a quick smile at the girl, before tilting her head towards the door as she cracks it open.

 _Gotta be nearly there, now._

Venturing out the restroom and into the _great big world_ outside, Jane takes a moment to inhale a crisp set of air, her eyes flitting about for signs of the undead. Clementine inches out behind her, looking over her shoulder and wrinkling her nose at where they'd just slept for a long couple of moments, the look persisting even as the door _clicks_ shut.

"We're going to be there … soon, right?"

"Yea, we're uh …" her eyes narrow as she squints in the vague direction of the hardware store - or, uhm, she _hopes_ is the direction of Howe's - her gaze sinking back to the girl. "It can't be much further. A day, maybe?" Clementine's face eases into a smile at the mention of 'a day', her lips twitching upwards - a look that's contagious, as Jane feels a smile touch her own features. "So, c'mon, partner," she tilts her head in the direction she's 'picked', starting her walk slowly, feeling her smile grow at the tiny laugh she hears from Clementine.

The sun slowly rises over the horizon, painting her surroundings in a gentle glow. The sunshine, the twittering bird song and the _crunch_ of dead leaves underfoot are noises she hadn't realised she'd _missed_. If she shuts her eyes, it's like she's back at the family house, before life took one of those turns for the worse, helping Jaime catch butterflies with that ridiculous pink net of her sister's. The sun beading into her eyes, creating dazzling lights in her periphery as she inched along, sneakers pressing into the scattered leaves along the lawn. _Swish._ The net slamming down, another butterfly caught, urging Jaime over - watching the scrawny girl race over with jar in hand, giggling delightedly, Jane _maybe_ cracking a small smile as the girl gushed over her new catch.

' _You're the best sister ever!'_

Tiny coughing yanks her away from the illusion she'd lost herself in, Jane opening her eyes with a bitter sigh and looking over her shoulder. Clementine's staring at the baby with huge eyes, bobbing him up and down. A fresh stain lies on her puffer jacket, all green and - _shitty_. Even as someone who knows the square root of _fuck all_ about babies, save for the fact that they puke, piss and shit _everywhere_ , Jane understands that coughing up greenish-brown stuff isn't … _good._

"It's okay, AJ," she hears the small girl coo down to the baby. Inadvertently, Jane winces. "Y - You're okay, aren't you? You're tough…"

Jane looks over her shoulder, opening her mouth to say something. Her mouth slowly shuts as she notices the desperate look on the girl's face. If facial expressions and desperate pleas meant _anything_ in today's world, if they offered even the slightest form of cure, then the intensity of Clementine's gaze would make the baby cured on the spot. Unfortunately for the kid, pleading can't kill illnesses. Whatever it is that the baby has, it's not … _great._

"There'll be something at Howe's… Jane, there - there'll be something to make him okay, right?" the girl looks up, and Jane's mouth opens quietly again. Her tongue tied, the woman uselessly clears her throat, stalling for time against an _eleven-year-old._ Words dance to the tip of her tongue, only to scuttle away as she starts to phrase them, leaving her sounding like a gibbering wreck as lies, truths and something-inbetweens all darting around in her head.

"Uhh - uhh, yea," Jane coughs awkwardly, looking ahead again. "We're nearly there," she tries her best at reassuring her small travelling partner, an uncertain smile and a scratch of the back of her neck keeping the words company. "Then we'll … 'make him okay'," she looks away, wincing to herself as she does so. _Shit, why did you …_ Her throat shifts in her neck as she swallows, looking away from the girl and retreating back to the silence she often hides behind. Or hid _ed_ behind, until the escape from Howe's. Until …

Jane shakes her head, inhaling another set of crisp air. The faint smell of decay lingers in the air, the source of which is seemingly deeper into the forest. Save for the twitching of her lips that the smell brings about now-and-again, Jane barely reacts. A stark contrast from the girl behind her, who lets out a quiet moan, the sound of someone who's beyond appalled. Smiling, a gentle chuckle spilling from her lips, the woman takes a look over at the girl, the gentle smile touching her cheeks.

"Figured you'd be used to it, by now," Jane speaks up lightly. Clementine is determinedly looking away from the supposed source of the smell, her little nose wrinkling and her golden eyes narrowing, a little. Golden eyes slip back towards her, the woman shrugging a little at the piercing gaze. The girl pauses for a moment, before eeking out a tiny grin.

" _You_ might be used to it…" the girl mumbles out, that tiny smile widening a little. Her nose wrinkles some more as her eyes settle on Jane's jacket, the woman widening her eyes as a smirk of her own inches onto her face.

" _Hey!_ That -" she trails off, the smile softening. " _Tuh!_ " her brown eyes settle on the faint imprints of walker guts on the girl's clothes, the dark liquid having had plenty of time to sink into the little puffer jacket of hers, the colour looking less _baby blue_ and more _bloodied brown._ Clementine's gaze follows Jane's, and the woman watches with a degree of amusement as the girl's little nose turns up at the disgusting smears along her jacket. Jane settles for shaking her head, a small grin tugging at her lips. "You're a … mean bitch, sometimes," she smiles down at the girl, who awkwardly eeks out her own grin, a stifled giggle accompanying the facial gesture. Jane shakes her head, looking along the trail. _Not so bad._

Minutes bleed by at a snail's pace, nothing to distract her from her thoughts except for the grizzling the baby makes, the noise setting her skin on edge and her hair on end. Even after holding him, the noises don't … _agh._ A long _long_ time ago, when baby sister had been born, Jane remembers vividly how she'd been scared _shitless_ holding Jaime, who would stare up at her with big brown eyes and drool on her chin, making the exact same noises to her, excited squeals and chubby hands having the then young Jane be terrified of holding the baby - and later toddler - close to her.

" _She's your_ _ **sister**_ _, Jane."_

Those same words, said _over and over_ as she grew up, with different tones - varying from proud to disapproving - and volumes. Whether it was affectionately looking at the two when Jaime had just been brought into the world, or whenever the _bitch_ had broken up an argument between the two - usually involving Jane 'being mean' or some 't have been … that long ago, but it sure feels like a lifetime ago. _Jaime's lifetime ago._

"God dammit," she mumbles under her breath, the heel of her palm pressing against her temple. Thoughts upon thoughts of how it _should_ have gone, regret over how it _did_ go, in the last days, the constant yelling at the girl. _'I'm not gonna die for you!'_ , and shit like that, when that was … probably the shit she _didn't_ need to be yelling, when Jaime had been _that_ bad. Especially after… _fucking fuck._

 _Her gun lingers in Jaime's grip, Jane looking at her with wide eyes. It's late - too late. The moon hangs high in the night sky, bathing their surroundings in a pale glow. In the cramped confines of the apartment, she can clearly see the girl's form, standing bolt upright, shaking like a leaf. The gun rattles audibly, an incessant rattling. Quietly, carefully, she takes a step, only to hear a frightened yelp. Her little sister's tears are visible on her face, the moonlight painting them in a haunting glow._

" _Jaime…" her throat feels too big, the acrid taste of vomit in the back of her mouth. Her heart thuds against her chest. The gun rattles more. Another quiet step towards the girl. A thick sob echoes in the quiet room, the gun's rattling going still for a moment. She wants to scream, her heart hurts from the fretful pounding in her chest. For a single moment, she's paralysed, watching the silhouette of the girl._

 _There's a loud click - the safety. A pained moan follows, then a visible shake of Jaime's head. Jane's heart beats faster still, the taste of bile becoming more pronounced._

" _Jaime, puh - please … put it down."_

 _Another sob. Jane feels her heart crack. A third step, further this time, the slide of the pistol glowing eerily in the moonlight. In an instant, Jane deeply regrets leaving the weapon in a place Jaime could find it. That's why she hid the pills, and the nail file… fuck fuck fuck…_

" _You don't - you can't do this. I've got you. Please. Don't … do anything stupid…"_

 _Her hand reaches out for the pistol, her fingertips brushing gently against the cool metal. Brown eyes shift to meet her own as she pushes the gun downwards, wrapping her fingers around the weapon._

" _Thaaaat's it … just … put it down … e - easy, tiger…"_

 _The gun slips from Jaime's hands, Jane letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. As she makes to pick the gun up, the sobbing returns, the girl throwing her arms around Jane and burying her head into her chest, muffling her crying - looks like she's learned from the best after all. Jane hesitates, shifting her foot and nudging the gun away from them before wrapping her arms around the girl, the fingers of her right hand snaking to the back of the girl's shoulder length hair. Her nails scratch at the back of her head, the woman shutting her eyes and breathing shakily._

" _I'm suh - sorry Jane… I juh … I want … I wanna see mommy and daddy…" her little sister chokes out, the front of Jane's shirt already damp from tears. Jane nods, her fingers still scratching at the back of the girl's hair and her other arm keeping her close to her. She hums quietly, the girl's favourite song from 'The Wizard of Oz' as she hears Jaime's sobbing get louder still, her eyes shifting to the door for a solitary moment before looking down at the mess of brown hair nestled under her chin, the back of it still moving with the gentle scratching from Jane._

" _I know," she breathes back, pausing from her humming as she listens to the girl's crying get louder. She feels something wet and hot trickle down from her eyes, and pulls her little sister closer still. "I know. Shhshhshh…"_

Her throat shifts again, the woman making sure to keep her face obscured away from the curious little girl in tow. The breeze attacks her face, a chill wind that pinks her cheeks and has her eyes water for a moment - at least, that's what she's going to tell herself. Chilled fingers press against her eyelids, massaging them gently. Her head thuds a little, the cold and the rum she's been sneakily helping herself to probably being the cause of it. With a grunt, she shakes her head, tearing her fingers away and blinking firmly. _Gah._

The sound of tiny retching makes Jane groan loudly, looking over to see Clementine yelping and holding the boy in her arms at a distance, her nose wrinkling and eyes watering as the baby coughs and sputters. Her small jacket is coated in a fresh dose of the disgusting _shit_ that comes out the baby's mouth, the woman resigning herself to likely having to hold the lump of liability while Clementine clears her jacket of the _muck._

"Jane, can you - ?"

With a sigh and a shaky step towards the girl, her leg stinging like the absolute _bitch_ that it is, Jane extends her arms for the boy for the second time that day, wriggling her fingers impatiently as she squints down at the brownish-green smears that are on the _bloodied-brown_ coat.

"C'mon, clean up, then you're taking him back," she speaks stiffly and quickly, furrowing her brows down at the boy with a little more impatience than he _probably_ deserves. Clementine meekly extends the blanketed figure to Jane, the woman letting out an agitated sigh as the helpless orphan is plopped into her arms, already fidgeting a little. His face is crinkled as he looks up at her, little smears of whatever _shit_ he chucked up on Clementine flecked all around his mouth. Jane shudders, muttering out a _'gross'_ under her breath as she pointedly looks away from the baby, watching the forest as Clementine fiddles with her jacket.

The baby coughs again, Jane wrinkling her nose at the noise and chancing a glance at her clothes - nope, no baby vomit … yet. As the whining and mumbling starts, all inane squeaking and squealing to the woman's ears, Jane remembers back to the girl's 'advice' from a couple days back, to hold him in a certain _way_ to get him to shut the fuck up. Uncomfortably, she does her best to mimic the hold she'd maintained back then, watching the baby carefully, gauging his chubby face for reactions. Wide eyes, slightly sagging mouth, but … quiet.

That's - good, right?

"Clem -"

"I'm just getting the -" her jacket pried off, Clementine looks down at the blue article with a wrinkled nose, like some artist at a half finished painting. Jane's eyes flit back to the baby, who seems infinitely calmer now that he's being held properly. _Picky little shit._ In an attempt to placate the boy, she awkwardly - hesitantly, uncomfortably - rocks him, staring at him with huge eyes the whole time. _Fffuuuuck._ She's suddenly all too aware of how fucking high up the kid is in her arms, how something making her jump'd make him fall a _long_ -

Cursing quickly and colourfully, Jane pulls the boy a little closer, wary of all those little tiny things you have to do. Support his head, keep him warm, don't hug him too tight, don't let him be sick 'cause the smell is fucking disgusting, don't drop him, don't rock him too much or he'll get sick, don't let him cry, _do not let him be sick for the love of fucking God._

All in all, Jane arrives at the conclusion that she has no fucking idea why people like holding babies so much. Or, _ahh_ , lik _ed_ holding babies so much. So much _shit_ to worry about, on top of worrying 'bout getting jumped by walkers or bandits, and _then_ the fact the baby might just decide, whether out of spite or out of hunger - who the fuck knows? - to start screaming its little head off, only making it that much more _insufferable_ to be around. Her throat shifts as the boy whines, reaching a chubby hand out for Clementine, the woman hissing in a breath.

"Uhh… No, hey, don't … do that," she mutters out, staring down at the boy with large eyes. "What d'you want? You … hungry, or - ?" Jane wrinkles her nose, wishing more than ever that the baby had some form of vocabulary besides snotting, crying and puking. "C'mon, just -" she jiggles the baby a little, who giggles a little at the motion and points at her, drool on its chin. "Oh, _gross_ ," she mutters, looking away from him again, shuddering a little.

After what feels like way too fucking long, Clementine's inching back over sheepishly, the fresh-er smears more or less removed from her jacket - little bit of water and elbow grease seems to have been enough to get rid of the lumpy, viscous liquid that so often pours out the baby's mouth. She meets Clementine's gaze and carefully shifts the baby away from her chest, crouching a little to help the girl take a hold of the child. A tiny sigh comes from the girl's mouth, Jane sighing through her nose and averting her gaze as the baby is transferred back to the little girl.

"We're … nearly there," she assures the girl as the baby is shifted from one set of arms to the other. Clementine looks up, at that, her lips twitching into a tiny smile, one Jane's eager to return in kind. The girl's face exudes the kind of youthful eagerness the kid _should_ be able to … hang on to, rather than smear herself in guts and hope she doesn't get shot or ripped apart by teeth and claws. _But that's how she's alive._ After a moment more of smiling like some starstruck moron, the woman forces herself to stand straight again, her fingers brushing against the handle of her gun. "Keep yours handy," she advises quietly, meeting the girl's gaze with a determined look of concentration on her face. Clementine nods, reaching quietly for her own and staring at Jane with wide eyes. "Just in case."

* * *

 _About fucking time._

Between the familiar surroundings of the woodlands - deja vu, she guesses - and the rotting smell that fills the air, Jane's pretty sure she _knew_ they were there before she'd even seen the huge _HOWE'S_ sign. Her eyes widen a little as they trudge out of the woodlands, arriving on the edge of the forest with her pistol held firmly in her grip and Clementine at her side. Dozens of corpses are littered all over the parking lot, thick clumps of 'dead' walkers with bullets through their skulls, slashes through their jaws, and dark blood over their fronts. Carefully, she runs her eyes along the hardware store before her, brows knitting together and brown orbs narrowing. _Focus up._

"Can't see much from here," Jane speaks carefully, quietly, not looking away from the hardware store for a single second. Carver's not on her mind, nor is Troy - _that fucking... asshole -_ but instead people like Tavia, or Bonnie. Snakes in the water, with their heads screwed on straight enough to weather out a herd, jumping like a rat from a ship whenever their cause is lost. Her nose wrinkles. _Sounds like you._ "C'mon," she jerks her head towards the store, raising her pistol a little as she does so. Half glancing at Clementine, she spots the girl twisting her own pistol under the baby's head, her golden eyes wider than usual in uncertainty.

Quietly, carefully, she moves across the parking lot, her gaze sweeping left and right across the parking lot as she does so. The store is eerily quiet, which she's … grateful for, in a sense. Navigating past the slew of corpses and near rivers of blood is secondary to her, the woman sparing half glances at her feet as she trudges over the greying and mottled bodies at her feet. _Euch._ Her lips tighten as she spots a particularly disgusting corpse hunched up against the loading bay, his skin torn away in strips, leaving only cartilage and bones. A ripped-up camo jacket is barely hanging together around the mauled form, the woman feeling some surge of … _something._ Trumph? Justice? No, shit… _fuck_.She stares at the body for a beat longer than perhaps healthy, the hand not holding her pistol balling into a tight fist as her teeth grit together.

 _Serves him right._

She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, letting the boiling hot feeling flood from her form before looking back to the girl in her charge, who's staring at a scrap of a bloodied flannel shirt with sad eyes. Jane frowns a little, trying to remember what happened … that night, the night they escaped. She racks her brain desperately, only to remember -

Ahh, shit. _Sarah's dad._

She makes to call Clementine over, to tear her away from the grisly sight - or the grisly memories - only to see the girl move away of her own accord, her chin tucked in as she bows her head. Jane sighs, shaking her head a little at the thought of the group that died along the way - _fuck_ \- before looking back to the loading bay, nudging the remains of Troy away with a dismissive shift of her boot.

The loading bay is higher than her, the woman cursing under her breath as she looks at her leg wound. She jerks her head towards the loading bay as Clementine looks over, the eleven-year-old picking up the pace a little to stand next to her, looking up at her with wide eyes and bobbing the baby quietly, shushing him even as Jane starts to talk.

"Need you to keep an eye out," Jane murmurs, squinting into the bloodied loading bay. "Then I'll help you and _ih_ \- him, him - get inside," she points at the baby, and the little girl gives an extremely tiny nod as a reply. "Alright, good."

Cursing foully, again, Jane drops the gun on the loading bay floor and presses her palms against the bloodied floor, grunting as she pushes herself up, like someone trying to crawl free from a swimming pool. _Fuck!_ Her leg sears in pain - red hot, searing - but after a little jump and a painful couple of moments, she finds herself standing inside their - hopeful - new home. Turning back to the girl, she crouches down and offers her hands. The girl looks at her with a tilt of her head, and Jane beckons slightly, looking over her shoulders as she does so. She feels a jump in her throat as she feels a much lighter - but definitely _way_ fucking scarier - weight press into her arms than expected, Jane carefully depositing the boy … on the floor, before reaching back for the girl.

"Gimme your hand," she breathes. Clementine nods twice, putting her tiny warm hand in Jane's larger one and looking up at her with wide eyes. With a gentle smile, a harsh pull and grunt of exertion from the pair, Jane succeeds - mostly, anyway - in hauling the girl inside, too, stopping only to scoop up her own weapon before standing fully again. "Eyes and ears."

The smell's the worst part, the loading bay seeming to have weathered the brunt of the herd. More walkers are inside, outstretched claws and wide open jaws. Bullet holes riddle their corpses, whether from frantic firing or 'disrespect' for the dead, Jane's not entirely sure. Looking away from the centre of the room for a moment, she twists and walks towards one of the cardboard boxes backed up against the other - closed - loading bay door, her lips pursing and her head tilting to one side. Gun still clamped in her right hand, she uses her left to brush along the items being stored in the container, stooping over to rummage. _Ammo, ammo and ammo._ Great.

She moves to join Clementine, the girl staring at a body wrapped up in a fur coat with his head caved in. There's little left to make the man recognisable - his jaw's just _gone_ , his skull painted in dark shades of red, or, at least, what's _left_ of his skull. His greying hair is flecked with the colourings of his own blood, and Jane just about spots an eyeball hanging out of its socket before she tears her gaze away. Her eyes shift to the girl standing next to her, then back to the body, sick curiosity getting the better of her, even as the taste of vomit starts crawling up her throat again. _That fucking monster…_

"I don't …" her throat seizes for a moment, her voice gentle as she looks down at the girl again. "I don't know how you were able to watch… _that_ …" she brushes past the girl, looking back at the small companion as she does so. _Tougher than me._ She's not entirely sure why she's surprised the girl wanted to … watch the guy get murdered. This is the kid that's put up with so much _bullshit_ , but kept pushing regardless. Still, even _she's_ grateful that she didn't stay behind to watch Carver get his skull obliterated, and she likes to consider herself something of a tough little bitch. She glances over her shoulder, to the girl staring down at the disfigured corpse with a little frown on her face.

"I wish I hadn't," Clementine speaks miserably, looking to the quiet baby in her arms and giving him a little jump as she inches away, looking as ashamed of herself as she sounds. Jane's features soften, the amazement and horror giving way to pity. _Poor kid._ She shakes herself from the reverie, dragging her leg as it seizes for a painful moment and looking down at a handle of boxes that lie in front of her. Her lips stretch to a grateful smile, though she's not sure who she's … grateful _to._ Carver? _Hnh._

Carefully, slowly, she lowers herself next to the sparsely packed cardboard boxes, rummaging inside with quiet sweeps of her hands. The contents rattle against one another, cans of food and boxes of _something_ shifting audibly. She stiffens as she hears a _clink_ from the box, pausing to look around the store. No one - or no _thing_ \- comes running to investigate, however, and Jane feels her muscles loosen. _Could be a lucky break._ Smiling gently, she glances up at the girl, clearing her throat gently.

"Here's the food," her attention is caught by a smaller cardboard box held within, Jane reaching for it with a slight frown. An excited gasp comes from her without her even meaning to let it loose. "Clem, there's formula," Clementine's eyes snap over to Jane, her tiny smile returning. Jane sighs, relaxing, "Bonnie was right."

She watches Clementine cast an eye around the loading bay, Jane mimicking the action as she glances back outside. _Not your worst idea._ Besides the rotting corpses both inside and outside the hardware store, there's a sense of homeliness to it … kinda. Maybe it's just because of the weeks she'd spent trapped in here before Clementine and her group showed up, but something about the bloodied store reeks of familiarity, of routine and - in this world gone to shit - that's … kinda welcome. Her brown eyes flit about as she eases herself to her feet, grimacing and gasping a little as her … _Fuck._

"We'll get him some food in a bit," Jane keeps her voice gentle for the girl, shifting so she's standing in the way of Carver's body, whom Clementine keeps - seemingly inadvertently - glancing back to. The girl glances up at her, her eyes widening in confusion. "We're gonna check the roof for people, too," Clementine nods her agreement silently, going back to twisting her gun in her tiny hand again. Jane clicks her tongue, looking out the bay doors again. _No walkers._

Moving carefully, Jane indicates with a tilt of her head for the girl to follow her. Her footsteps _clump_ against the tiled floor, her pistol rattles ever so slightly in her tight grip, half expecting to see Tavia prowling around, raising her rifle, a furious leer on her face - the kind she'd see whenever Troy would be running his _fucking paws_ all over her, Tavia letting out a dismissive _'tuh'_ as she stalked on past, turning a blind eye to the supplies that were exchanged for -

"You weren't lying, right?"

The voice is tiny, quiet, miserable. Clementine sounds … desperate. Jane shakes herself from the thoughts of the dead _fucking_ _pervert_ , looking back down at the girl with a tiny - forced - smile curling her lips. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow at the question, masking the things she _does_ feel about the question with that quirked facial expression. _She doesn't trust me._ That single thought, the burst of emotions that swell in her chest at the realisation, has her forced smile slip off her face as her gaze sinks to her boots.

"Lying about what, tiger?" she speaks delicately, carefully, putting on the cheeriest voice she dares in light of … _everything._ They pause next to the stairway leading up to the greenhouses, Jane folding her arms and looking down at Clementine. The ' _t_ ' word seems to have a profound effect on Clementine, her miserable look thawing for a brief moment before her uncertainty returns. An uncomfortable silence billows between the two as Clementine looks down to the baby curled up in her arms, her mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water.

"Mike and … Bonnie…"

Jane's eyes widen at the names, looking back up the stairwell with a slight frown. Her gaze softens as she remembers with a sinking heart the night they fled, just _hours_ before what happened at the rest stop. So much shit has happened in the past week, she can hardly believe that it's all happened, even less that it's happened to her. The crack of the gunshot in the middle of the night, hearing Kenny hurtle past, Mike and Bonnie's yelling further into the forest as Kenny chased after them, almost fading out as her gaze had fallen on the small girl curled up in a ball, hand pressed over the wound that was geysering blood.

' _I got you, just … hold on, Clem,_ _ **please**_ _!'_

She doesn't _know_ if the kid heard her begging that as she clamped her hands over the wound, her pale hands shaking as she wrapped the gunshot up, cradling the girl to her chest as she waited for the last 'adult' of the group to come back with the keys, his eye widening as he seemed to remember what spurred him to chase the two traitors into the woods. Her heart thumping as the girl's breathing got more and more ragged, holding the scrap of eleven-year-old tight to try and share _some_ kinda warmth as the piece-of-shit truck didn't start for the sixth or seventh time.

She shakes her head, looking back at the girl as she distances herself from the thoughts of the group that had torn itself apart in front of her. The golden-eyed child is staring up at her, her head slightly cocked over to one side, her lips tugging downwards. Jane allows herself to smile, again, placing a foot on the stairwell and tilting her head towards the top of the stairwell. As she starts to climb, she speaks quietly, her voice giving off the tiniest echo in the cramped quarters.

"You think they're going to come back?"

"Do _you?_ " Clementine persists, looking up at her anxiously. Jane looks back at the girl, shaking her head the tiniest bit. The girl looks down at her sneakers, and the woman can't _not_ notice the slight frown on the child's face. She shakes the thought from her mind, her throat shifting in her neck as they finally make it to the top of the stairwell, Jane pushing the door open and holding it for the small girl in her presence, who shifts out nervously, glancing out over the roof. Remembering with a slight shudder what Clementine had kept looking at in the loading bay, Jane swiftly decides not to let curiosity get the better of her on _this_ occasion, too.

"They won't come back. You don't … have to worry about that, okay?"

For a long moment, Clementine doesn't talk, looking down at the baby boy in her arms and seeming to give herself a moment to think. Jane stands uncomfortably, patiently, not moving as she waits for the girl to share her thoughts. Seconds crawl by, the woman staring down at her small friend. Finally, after what feels like hours of standing and waiting for the girl to just say _something_ , Clementine quietly clears her throat.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," the girl repeats, nodding. "I'll - try not to…" her voice trails off, and she looks nervously over the roof again. Jane pulls a face, making to look over the edge next to her. Pauses when Carver's mutilated body paints itself in her mind's eye again. _Ugh._

Settling for a brief nod, Jane beckons for the girl to follow her to the greenhouse, Clementine taking several smaller steps to keep up with her. The de facto 'guardian' nudges the door open with her foot, raising her pistol as she takes the first step inside the quiet room. Satisfied no one's hiding inside, she eases her weapon into the holster strapped to her leg, looking around the room quietly. Bowls lie empty on the tables next to the multitude of plants, a slight smile tugging again at Jane's lips. Clementine still lingers outside, despite Jane's second insistent beckon, looking around the roof with wide eyes. Shaking her head, she sighs, and takes another cursory glance around the greenhouse.

Her fingers graze over a set of shears that lie next to a potted berry plant. Maybe this place isn't such a bad plan long term after all. Move the walkers out to get rid of the smell, fix up the 'extension' Carver had insisted on maintaining, keep growing plants and her and Clementine can stay for … _shit,_ who knows how long? But it's better than sleeping in toilets, or sheds, or tiny cabins. _Huh._ Her brown eyes track across the room one more time before she backs out, easing the door shut behind her.

"Greenhouse is in good shape," she calls over to the girl, who looks over quickly. Clementine visibly relaxes at the news, her shoulders slumping a little and her smile returning to her face. "Y'know, maybe we should stay here a while," Jane looks back to the greenhouse, resting a hand on her hip and squinting through the glass. "See how it goes," out the corner of her eye, she sees Clementine's little smile widen a little, and Jane quickly focuses her attention back on the greenhouse. _Don't let her catch you grinning like a moron._

She expects Clementine to talk, to give her opinion in her quiet voice. Jane quietly waits for that opinion to be voiced, looking back at the greenhouse with a lopsided smile. Without all the _assholes_ that used to scurry around doing as Carver pleased, this place isn't … so shit. Especially with the company she's keeping now. And speaking of her company… Clementine's not where she'd been a moment ago, instead looking over the parking lot, Jane looking over with wide eyes.

"Clem?"

A look of worry - of fear and uncertainty - has slipped over Clementine's face, her skin paling. Jane treads over quickly, her heart in her mouth. She squints over the edge of the store, the previous serenity of the moment shattered into a million pieces as her gaze settles on the same sight Clementine's has.

Three people - a guy, a girl and a little kid - are inching towards their store. Jane's eyes narrow as she sizes the three up, her lips tightening. She doesn't recognise them as people from Carver's camp, but that means … _nothing._ Thoughts and worst case scenarios start whirling in her mind, her heart rate only quickening as she stares down at the three. _Fuck fuck fuck._

"C'mon," she breathes to the girl, sparing her a quick glance before striding back towards the stairwell they'd emerged from moments ago, her throat tightening. All this _shit_ , can't catch a fucking break for a single moment. Her shoulders square slightly as she treads down the stairs, her uncertainty giving way to … _fucking…_ The words didn't come to her as her feet guide her to the pen, Clementine taking several shorter and faster steps to keep up. Their footsteps echo in the cramped stairwell, memories of the tight confines all too fresh in Jane's mind, one of many spots for their - forced - 'arrangement'.

Cautiously, she takes the first step into the pen, shaking the thoughts as best she can. As she steps inside, her eyes squint at the group of three as they seem to spot them, the guy's eyes widening as he makes eye contact with her. Jane's heart pumps faster. Her gaze flits between the small group, trying to spot some kind of weapon across the three. _No knives, no guns …_

"They don't look armed," she breathes to her little companion, her eyes refusing to move from the small group in front of her. Uncomfortably, she comes to a halt, folding her arms over her chest as she does her best not to falter in front of the group. _Hold eye contact, don't look away, make_ _ **him**_ _talk first._ Her throat shifts in her neck as she waits, the young boy hiding behind the woman's legs and looking around the building with huge eyes.

"This … your place?"

His voice is gravelly, his tone one of a man at the end of his rope. _Down on his luck. Nothing to lose. Dangerous._ Jane frowns, a little, looking down to Clementine. The last time _she'd_ spoken to a stranger, Clementine's group had gotten shot at days later. Clementine had tried to talk to the teenager, and then … _We had to. Rebecca and Luke needed it._ Something in the back of her mind makes her bite her tongue, however, her gaze going back to the group, scrutinising them with a watchful eye.

"G - Go away," Clementine's voice is stronger than Jane expects, the woman making a double take as she looks to the little girl. Her throat shifts in her neck as she stares at the girl for a moment longer, before looking back to the redhead guy as he starts talking again, his tone shakier, skittish.

" _Ah_ \- Ah'right, just, wait a second. Jus' hear me out…" his plea is gentle, gentle enough for Jane to take pause. Clementine's resolve seems to shatter as soon as it came, looking down at the baby bundled up in her arms and giving him a miserable look. The baby looks at Clementine with big brown eyes, blissfully unaware as to the tension that fills the air, an electric cloud that hovers between her and the strangers outside. Jane makes to unfold her arms, to just … do _something_ to keep the kid calm. She hesitates when she remembers her present company, instead uncomfortably keeping her arms pressed over her chest.

"We need help," the woman squeaks out, her hand on the boy's shoulder. A play for sympathy, in Jane's mind. _Nice fucking try._ That idea turns out to be … less certain, to Jane, as her gaze slips to the boy, who looks down at the parking lot ground with sunken eyelids and a trembling lip. No red stain seeps through his clothes, however - _not a bite_ \- but the way his fingers lace over his stomach…

"My boy … he ain't - he ain't doin' so good…"

"What's wrong with him?" she cuts through him immediately, focussing her gaze on the boy. He looks anxious, his eyes widening as he shuffles behind the woman's legs again. Jane feels the knot in her stomach tighten as the woman - _hardly older than me_ \- looks down at the boy, whispering something she can't hear.

"Look, uh-uhm, don't worry, he ain't, uh, he ain't _bit_. Jus' … hungry," Jane looks back to Clementine, who looks over with wide eyes. Subtly, carefully, she shakes her head a little for the girl. The eleven-year-old looks back to the fence as the man takes another step towards them, raising his hands in some attempt to look calm. The panicked, almost frantic, look in his eyes does little to loosen the knot in Jane's stomach, however, something _about_ him setting her skin on edge. "We been walkin' for weeks. Ran outta food 'couple days back."

Clementine's gaze softens visibly, Jane looking over to see her little companion staring at the boy hiding behind the woman's legs. Jane struggles to keep the icy look on her face, in spite of _everything._ The man licks his lips, his attention drawn to the boy curled up in Clementine's arms. The redhead nods at Jane, making her slightly raise one of her eyebrows.

"That'chu'r kid?"

Jane blanches at the _idea,_ swallowing thickly and looking over to Clementine as the baby grizzles, a chubby paw reaching outwards. Jane looks at the baby, watching the helpless look in its eyes, her own gaze softening for the first time near the boy as Clementine bobs him up and down, placating the child before he starts screaming. The baby's gaze focuses on Jane, a louder whine accompanying the change in attention, and she does her best at a tiny smile.

"Where you girls been?"

Her frown returns, looking away from the guy and unfolding her arms, the question - intrusive, none of his _fucking business_ \- having her puff herself up a little, like a cat defending 'its' territory. The idea of explaining _everything_ that had happened - leaving here, the group dying, the fight, crawling their way back here with barely any supplies - has her nails digging into her palms. Clementine throws her a worried glance, her eyes widening and mouth opening uncertainly. Jane takes a single step closer to the fence, her lips tightening.

"Why do _you_ care?"

"Woah, I - I didn't mean nothin' by it," he stammers out, awkwardly, his hands still raised at chest height. Jane looks away from the guys face, leering at the floor beneath her with a disgusted look, like she's just trodden in shit, or seen _Troy._ Back here, she's only just realised how … fucking shit, he was. _Fuck._ Her thoughts dance away from her, making her take a pause as she tries to focus again. Difficult, when she remembers his clammy hands and _disgusting_ breath, the furious muttering in her ear, the grunting he'd -

"Ple - please step away from the fence" Clementine's the one to quell the man's uncomfortable stammering and abruptly pull Jane from her thoughts, the girls tone surprisingly even. _She's just doing the tough thing, as per usual._ The man blanches, before some forced smile curls his lips and he takes a theatrical step back, his hands still held high. The feral look in his eye remains, however, exaggerated by the lenses of his glasses which, when combined with his forced grin, has Jane's pulse quicken all over again. Her fingers twitch, now that they're not tucked into her armpits, desperate to try reassure the kid next to her, all too aware of Clementine's quiet and quick breathing.

The man's face has her folding her arms again, looking down at her little friend once again. "Keep an eye on him," she murmurs, all too aware of how nervous and skittish the man's becoming with every passing moment. Clementine gives a tiny nod, almost imperceptible, her young features contorted into an expression of scrutiny for the man before them. Still standing a ways from the fence, he rests his hands on his hips and runs an unimpressed eye along the building.

"This place needs a lotta work." he drawls, the sudden change in voice being enough for Jane to widen her eyes a little. _He's desperate._ Still, she feels a little twitch go across her face. In the back of her mind, some semblance of irritation rears. Maybe some vain sense of pride, or some shit, both from her past work on doing all the work she's done on the place, and the fact she's made to stake a clam in this place, and some stranger is trying to bargain his way into _her_ new home.

"Yeah?" Jane's answer is sharp, cutting, brusque. She shrugs a little, narrowing her eyes at the guy, her arms tightening around herself. _He needs to go._ Just in the corner of her periphery, the handle of her pistol glints up at her in the early morning sunshine. _Just in case._

Seemingly forgetting what Clementine has _just_ asked of him, the man steps closer to the fence with an eager, frantic, grin curling his lips, his family inching closer also. She notices a similar - albeit forced, smaller - version of the look appear on the woman's face, too, the boy still seemingly lost in the throes of … whatever's making him 'not do so good'. Jane bites back the cuss word that dances on the tip of her tongue, instead gritting her teeth and letting him talk.

"Ahh, we - we could help you!"

Jane frowns uncertainly, her arms unfolding apprehensively, unsure how to hold herself as she looks to her friend with slightly narrowed eyes, shaking her head the whole time. She lowers her voice carefully, wary of the family standing _just_ outside. The greenhouse has food, sure - _in the future._ But unless everyone starts munching baby food, there just … _isn't_ enough for three adults, two kids _and_ a baby.

"There's _not_ that much food left," Jane warns Clementine, her voice a low whisper. Clementine looks over, her eyes widening a little, and Jane shakes her head again. _Not lying._ The girl's gaze slips to her sneakers, sighing through her nose. As if deep in thought. Always pausing in conversation, always thinking of … _something._

"Please…" the woman eeks out, stepping to be closer to the man, reaching her hands out towards the little girl slightly. Jane shuffles a little closer, watching the strangers warily. "We - we won't make it another night, out here…"

The baby starts whimpering and whining, Jane wincing and looking over at the noise. Clementine gasps and starts bobbing him up and down, humming a little - _that same song -_ to silence the infant's cries. Sure enough, after a few moments of the actions, Jane watching the girl with a soft gaze all the while, the baby - _orphan, liability_ \- goes quiet, again, save for sneezing a fresh globule of _disgusting shit_ all over Clementine's jacket. The girl wrinkles her nose, but says nothing.

"Look -" Jane's eyes shift to the man, noticing the hardness of his words. _He's losing patience._ "I know you don't know us," the woman shifts closer to him, reaching out a tender hand. Jane holds her breath, watching as the man tenses. "And I know a _lot_ ofpeople out here say a lotta things," as the woman's hand touches his sleeve, the man tears his arm away, a harsh and aggressive motion, making Jane's eyes widen. _It's like … that?_ The woman looks terrified, stepping backwards as quickly as she'd approached the man, Jane noting the glint of fear in her eyes.

 _Worry and fear spark in her eyes, the same as every night after their 'arrangements', his threats still ringing in her ears, fingers grazing red marks on her neck, wincing at her reflection. Everything hurts. She aches, doing her best not to show how sore she is. Her cheeks burn with shame. Her left hand holds the extra food she's gotten from … this, the right turning up the collar of her jacket, numbly zipping the garment up. She flashes herself a brief smile, before inching - painfully, tenderly, with the slightest of limps - towards the pen, to where she can finally rest and try to forget him for a couple of nights._

 _Don't cry._

"But I'm askin' you, a - as a father," his voice cracks, Jane sucking in air through her nose as her eyes shift to the boy standing behind the man and woman's legs. _Fuuuck._ " _Please_. Don't turn us away," his voice is wobbling, that glint in his eyes hardening. Jane lets out a shaky breath, looking down to Clementine as the girl looks up at her.

"I dunno, Clem," she murmurs, her eyes darting between the desperate man beyond the fence, and her companion behind it. "They could be _anybody_. Do we really want to go through _this_ again?" Jane's question is rhetorical, something she hopes the girl understands. No way _she_ wants to go through all the motions of watching a group die, all over again. Still, her eyes keep slipping back to the family, her throat feeling wet as her gaze keeps landing on the boy. _Shit shit shit, why did they have to have a kid?_

"Please… we'll _die_ out here…"

 _Just tell them to fuck off. They're not Clementine, you don't care._

"Just give us a chance - give us a chance to _prove_ ourselves. You won't regret it, I promise _you_."

 _Shit, I - I can't do this, he's a_ _ **kid**_ _. But so's Clem ..._

"You _have_ to let us in…"

 _Say something! Anything!_

Clementine stands silently, her eyes wide as she looks between Jane and the family. Uncertainty holds the pair, Jane tightening her arms around herself. As she opens her mouth to talk, however, Clementine does so too, Jane biting her tongue as -

* * *

The sun's gone, sunk behind the horizon and replaced with the pale moon. It's been a long day, to say the least _._ Carefully, quietly, she inches over to the guardrail Clementine is sat by, her hands shoved into her pockets as she observes the little girl's demeanor. She's sat _just_ like how she was when she - when she had left her, after the observation deck, her legs dangling over the edge of the building and her hand wrapped around one of the railings. After getting some food in the baby, Clementine had left him in the break room, mumbling out something about having a headache before shuffling out the room, Jane's quiet _'how're you holding up'_ dying in her throat.

That'd been … _hours_ ago. Thankfully, the baby's been … quiet. The formula had been enough to placate the thing, and for the last couple hours it's just been napping in a cardboard box Jane had dropped a blanket in, leaving Jane alone with her thoughts as the baby sleeps. Not something she wants to be stuck with, which is why she's _here_ with Clementine, now.

Mostly, anyway.

Jane stands awkwardly next to the girl as she comes to a stop near the guard railing, resting the heels of her palms against the painted metal, the dry yellow coating peeling off in clumps, revealing brown rust clotting underneath. Her gaze shifts to the top of the girl's head, the blue and white baseball cap obscuring her view of the little girl's face. Clementine's shoulders are tucked up to her ears, however, and her head is visibly bowed. _Doesn't take a genius to know how she's feeling._

"Hey, you," Jane keeps her tone light and gentle, giving the girl a little nudge with the toes of her boot, watching her carefully for a reaction. Just in case the girl chooses to look up, Jane eases a little smile onto her face, expecting - hoping? - the girl will at least _say something._

 _Nothing._

After a few seconds more of waiting for a response, and being rewarded with just more silence, Jane hisses out a sigh, looking back out over the lot. The guy'd been right, the place _does_ need a lot of work. The wooden fences barely hold together around the extension, shoddy nail jobs being the only thing that keeps the thin wooden planks from peeling off the walls. Still, beats the world beyond the walls of the store. With some hard work, and _time_ , this place'll be as good a place as any to call home.

"You … did the right thing," she keeps her tone gentle as she watches the girl out the corner of her eyes, her grip on the guardrail tightening. When the girl doesn't speak again, Jane continues. "You - we didn't know who they _were_ ," she shudders at the memory of the man's furious leer as the girl raised her pistol, the threat he'd yelled. _He might come back._ "I'm … _Thank you._ "

That gets the little girl's attention, Clementine looking up at the two words and blinking. Her lips tug downwards, but her eyes remain dry. Jane doesn't envy her, in this moment, realising with a frosty exhale that her own demons are probably preferable to whatever is bouncing around in the child's head. Her hands push away from the guardrail, Jane making to leave, only to pause as her eyes locked with Clementine's, her heart sinking at the hollow look in the girl's eyes. The eleven-year-old opens her mouth, and Jane sucks her breath in - _is she about to talk?_ \- only for her shoulders to slump as the girl's shoulders slump, too.

Jane makes to move away, easing herself off the guardrail and taking a single step back, but pauses when the girl holds eye contact with her, her golden eyes wide. A glint that lingers, something Jane can't place. Desperation, maybe? A need to _know_ she did the right thing? _Shit._ She holds her ground, folding her arms tight across her chest as her heart pounds. Temptation creeps up in the back of her mind, to escape to her 'comfort zone', finding something to _do_ to distract herself. But then the thought of Clementine dealing with this shit _alone_ crops up in her mind,

' _She's your_ _ **sister**_ _, Jane.'_

The words muttered by her - late - mother reverberate in her head, Jane hissing out a sigh and resisting the urge to walk away, instead inching closer a little, her tongue tying for a moment as the silence hangs between the two. After a little longer, words finally return to Jane, her brown eyes casting around the roof, _just in case,_ before clearing her throat and looking down at the girl, holding eye contact as best she can.

"You … want me to leave you alone?"

Clementine shakes her head mutely, quickly and immediately - almost frantically - still staring up at Jane.

"Want me to get AJ? Maybe you can …"

Again, there's a tiny shake of Clementine's head, her golden eyes shifting to the gravelly floor next to her. The little girl audibly takes a breath, Jane watching her companion carefully, gauging the kid's face for _something_ she can - use, or _read._ A mask of misery is all that meets Jane's eyes, the woman exhaling slowly. Quietly, she starts speaking, her tone slow and cautious.

"D'you want to … to talk?"

Slowly, quietly, Clementine finally looks away, another little sigh coming from her mouth. Jane takes that to mean a defeated _'yes'_ , clicking her tongue and curving her fingers around the shoddily painted metal, waiting for the girl to talk as her gaze roams around the forest opposite the store, taking in the sights of the tall trees, the rotting corpses and the stars twinkling above.

"Why are you … _thanking_ me?"

Jane licks her lips, counting out the seconds it takes for her to think of a reply that the kid'd … _get_. They might be bandits. _They might be nice._ We don't have enough food. _They had enough food to feed loads of people, before._ That's because they had more people to grow crops. _So why did we let more people go?_ Every _fucking_ reason she thinks of, Clementine's voice whispers an argument in the back of her mind. The feeling in her gut nags at her, tells her that the risk of letting them in was greater than the reward they _might've_ brought. Realising that'd probably be lost on the girl, she who tries to hold onto her innocence despite all the shit the world has thrown at her, Jane breathes out slowly and meets the golden eyes with her own brown orbs.

"'cause I know what you did wasn't easy, for you. For _anyone_."

There's another long silence, uncomfortably long, broken only by Clementine shuffling on the tarmac. The girl lets out a little noise as her mouth opens, clearly stuck on her words. Jane watches the girl as her mouth opens and shuts time and time again, that little uncertain squeak coming out with every opening. Jane wriggles self consciously, opening her mouth to try and calm the girl, stopping in the action when Clementine finally seems to find the words.

"No … it … it kind of -"

Jane's eyes widen, understanding what the girl means even before she's finished speaking. That, deep down, all of the bad shit's only getting easier as time goes on. The tough things they have to do are only getting easier with every passing day, something she's all too familiar with. After Jaime, shit stopped … stopped _mattering_. Consequence, accountability, it hasn't … meant anything, to _her_. All that's mattered is surviving, one day to the next.

That is, until Clem. Then surviving became … _living._ And she's going to try keep it that way.

"Right," Jane mumbles out gently, quelling the girl's uncertain mumbling. Clementine stares up at her with huge eyes, watching her talk with undivided attention. "But that - you still did the right thing. It might not …" she swallows. "You might not _think_ it right now, but I … I _know_ you did, Clem," if she was just a _touch_ closer, she'd reach a hand out to the girl's shoulder. Instead, she keeps her fingers curled around the metal. Clementine looks down at her sneakers meekly at those words, a tiny - _miniscule_ \- smile touching her young, and so often sullen, face.

The silence is more comfortable, Clementine looking less _shitty_ now. The girl remains sat still, the foot that dangles over the roof kicks back and forth. Jane hesitates for a moment, her lips tugging upwards into her own small smile, before she lowers herself so she's sat next to Clementine, her legs tucked to her chest to ward off the chill as best she can.

Speaking of the chill…

"You've got to be cold," Jane smiles lightly as she says the words, raising an eyebrow at the tiny girl. Despite the tiny jacket around her form, Jane can clearly see Clementine shivering, doing a much better job at hiding it than back in the shed. In fairness to the kid, it's still fucking _freezing_.

"A little."

Jane licks her lips, smirking a little at her own 'wit' for what's to come. "This isn't a play for more rum, is it?" Clementine looks over, her little smile growing larger, silently shaking her head. Jane nods once, grinning a little, before shifting her gaze over to the corpses that line the parking lot. The smell is overwhelming, so much _death_ in one spot. So many people died, here. Friends and foes alike. _Shit._

She hesitates over her next words, her gaze lingering on the torn shirt Clementine had been staring at earlier. All too vividly, she remembers Sarah's screaming, looking over as she felled a walker to see a man being torn to shreds and the teenager shrieking and screaming, Clementine looking up at her with huge eyes, gunfire and screaming combining into some horrific crescendo of noise, Jane watching as the teenager runs away, leaving Clementine on her own -

 _ **You did that before.**_

Jane shakes her head, grimacing at the mistake - _the fucking mistake_ \- that keeps sidling up to her, every time Clementine scoots close to her at night. The night she turned her back on the group, slipping into the night rather than stay after the day that group had. If she hadn't heard the shots and the frantic yelling, she might not've come back…

 _Three days._

 _A chill wind attacks her, a whispering gale that has Jane curl up a little, reddened fingers clutching at her jacket sleeves. The morning sun holds no warmth against the chill of these northern states, the woman sneezing and groaning. Probably gonna catch a cold. Her hand rubs against her face, under her nose and her mouth, muttering mutinously about the bitter weather, the pure bullshit which is northern America. Amidst the woodlands, not too far from where she left Clemen -_

 _Fuck._

 _Even now, those wide golden eyes swim in her mind's eye, innocence and hurt intermingled into one miserable expression. Jane kneads her forehead, gritting her teeth. This_ _is what she gets, for letting herself get attached to someone. But she'd been … she can't explain it. Everything Jaime was, and everything Jaime needed_ _to be. Or … something. Her eyes seal shut, her palms rubbing against them as she bites her lower lip, rocking back and forth the tiniest amount. Maybe she shouldn't have …_

 _Shaking her head, firmer this time, she eases to her feet. She's been alone before - long before that group showed up - and being alone suits her just fine now. Groups just slow you down. She doesn't need them. They have a baby, now, they're liabilities. More trouble than they're worth. All of them._

 _Almost all of them._

' _So, c'mon, partner …'_

 _The smile she'd … she'd earned_ _from calling her that little name, encouraging her that she's_ _more than just some little kid, to some little girl she barely knows, yet there's something - something there, between them. Some … mutual understanding, or - or some bullshit like that. From an eleven-year-old. Jane shakes her head, again, her fingers interlocking as she presses them away, listening to the joints click and crack together. If she was gonna stick around the woods longer, she'd consider starting a fire, but since she's -_

 _A volley of gunfire, closer than she likes, has her stand bolt upright, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers graze over the knife tucked in her sheath, her breathing getting shorter and uneven with every moment the gunfire lasts. She hesitates, looking between her destination further into the forest and the source of the gunfire. Whoever's there must be_ _ **seriously**_ _pissed. O - Ohhh, shit._

 _Clem!_

 _Without fully thinking what she's going to - to do, she breaks into a run towards the noises, hoping with every fibre of her being that the little kid's hanging on, that she's clear from the gunfire. Thick crunch noises rise up to meet her, the frozen ground and snow coated underbrush digging into the soles of her footwear with every rapid step._

 _Please be okay please be okay please be okay…_

Feels like a lifetime ago, but it can't have been … it was, what, a week ago? Maybe a day or so more? The reason she even came back is staring up at the stars, seemingly lost as her golden eyes track the white pinpricks in the black velvet of space. Content with just sitting in silence, not alone - for _once_ \- Jane wraps her arms around herself, exhaling slowly and watching as her breath transforms into some heavy mist before her very eyes.

Weight on her shoulder, the same as the weight she'd felt that morning, has Jane move her gaze away from the stars, opening her mouth to say something, but stopping when she sees Clementine close her eyes and shuffle her head on her shoulder. Settling for letting the girl relax as opposed to pushing her away, Jane carefully moves the arm Clementine is laying against, wrapping it gently around the scrawny shoulders of the little girl and breathing out a slow sigh. Her brown eyes shift to the person pressed against her, and she smiles a little.

"Tired?"

A pause.

" _No,_ " the girl's voice is quiet, defiant, just like Jaime's when she was little, and mom'd ask if she wanted to go to bed. Jane chuckles through her nose, shaking her head a little and watching the girl's face. Relaxed, eyes closed, lips parted as she breathes in and out slowly on Jane's chest. _Not so bad._ Again, her fingers scratch idly at the back of Clementine's hair, humming quietly to herself - or to Clementine, she's not … entirely sure. She pulls a face as her fingers snag in a knot in the girl's mess of blackish-brown hair, grimacing a little. _Ach._

Hearing Clementine giggle, though, feeling her little body wriggle with the effort of suppressing her laughter, puts the gentle grin back on her face. Carefully, she pulls her fingers free, taking in a breath of air as she does so. Hugging people isn't her … _forte._ Never has been. So why … ?

"Guess you can take watch tonight, then," she teases without thinking, raising a single eyebrow as she looks down at the eleven-year-old. Clementine's eyes snap open, looking up at Jane with huge eyes, only serving to make Jane chuckle and look away, shaking her head. "We'll just lock up the break room. Sure it'll be fine."

"Mhm."

Jane licks her lips, remembering how just minutes ago she'd been so … _different._ So withdrawn, quiet, miserable, looking almost _fragile_ in her self-imposed isolation. And yet, _and yet_ , now that they're talking, with the girl acting like Jane's some Big Sister, someone she seems to _trust_ , despite all the shitshe's pulled, the lying and all the - the _bullshit_ she's put on Clementine's shoulders. But underneath the cheer - forced, _so obviously_ \- Jane can hear the misery that traces the edges of Clementine's words, the doubt and fear that plagues everyone who's walking this 'difficult road', to a point. But it had been too much for Jaime, and it can't - it _won't_ \- be enough for Clementine. Right?

"You … haven't been eating, much," she starts slowly, watching Clementine for a reaction as best she can. The girl bows her head, not meeting her eyes. The woman sighs through her nose. "Is it … _just_ what you said, before? In the shed?" Jane knows _immediately_ that there's more to it, that grief isn't the sole motivator behind how Clementine is. She hesitates, tilting her head, carefully moving her hand up and down the girl's arm. That - that had made her smile back in the shed. Is she _doing_ hugging right? Jaime hadn't -

Right, yea, bigger things at hand.

"I shouldn't have made those people go away."

 _Shit._

"Yea, you should have. I _told_ you, you did the right thing, Clem."

Clementine wrinkles her nose, looking out over the parking lot. Her little brows are knotted together, her lips a slight pout. With every passing second, Jane finds herself wishing more and more that _she'd_ taken action, that she hadn't frozen up and Clementine had been forced to make _that_ decision.

' _What if we're dangerous?!'_

' _What if_ _ **I**_ _am?'_

She hadn't looked angry, or scared, or even upset. In that single moment, spitting those words at the furious man, gun firmly in hand and baby cradled to her chest, she'd just looked … tired. Resigned, almost. Jane's eyes had widened at the sight of her pulling the gun from her pants, for a single split second wondering if a firefight was about to emerge, only to see the girl scaring the family away, the look of guilt that had lined her features as the boy looked back at them with huge eyes.

Even then, as Clementine had mumbled out something an old friend had apparently once told her, Jane knew that the girl hated what she'd done. Her refusal to make eye contact, the way she just _failed_ to smile for anything, even for the baby, the slouched shoulders and bowed head, scuffing shoes, quivering lip and sunken eyes.

Poor kid.

"The right thing … sucks, then."

"You're telling me."

' _F - Fine! You want to stay here, with them, then you can! You can just stay here, and die!'_

The rooftop, the _smell_ of the walkers growing further away, the distant screaming. The tears that had silently tracked down her face as she kept running, her chest on fire as she ran and ran, further away from the hell that building was. It wasn't meant to _happen_ like that, Jaime should _be here_. She'd _tried_ , agonised over trying to keep her - fuck, just alive. Cutting her hair despite the shorter girl's protests, soaking her in the walkers guts to help them shift through the herds even as she snotted and cried at the disgusting feel of blood, clamping a hand over her mouth when bandits came looking for them, holding her to her chest to silence her cries in the night, sacrificing happiness for survival. That's … necessary.

This week, this week of pure _fucking_ hell, is a testimony to that. Asides from tearing herself free from Howe's, and meeting the company she keeps now, everything else has just been… _fuck._ Watching Clementine struggle to kill Nick, having to look away and do her best to tune out Sarah's gut wrenching screams, that stupid _mistake_ she'd made with Luke, then watching _him_ die and everything spiral out of control.

Kenny.

She should've done something _other_ than that. Making Clementine shoot Kenny that - that's not what she _wanted_ to happen. She just wanted to be away from there, away from _him_ , with Clementine in tow, the two of them against the world. All the shit behind them, no one to hurt them, just some time to relax, to process, to mourn. Not to - not to have _this._

But, hell, it might not be quite what she'd had in mind when she hid the baby. But it's … close enough.

"So … when you shot Troy -" Jane winces at the name, swallowing, but does her best not to say anything. "You did the right thing. Because you were helping us. You were helping _me_."

"... Rrright, yea."

"But …" Clementine fidgets, again. "That's not … Lee said that - that killing people's … _always_ bad. Always." _Who?_

"That why you're upset? 'Cause of what … Lee, said?"

The eleven-year-old pauses, tilting her head to one side, starting to shake her head. She hesitates in the action, though, before meekly nodding. Jane clicks her tongue, averting her gaze. Clementine fidgets away from the arm for a moment, changing how she's sitting before leaning up against her again _._ The girl mimics Jane's usual posture, her legs dragged to her chest and arms wrapped around them, something Jane grins at, a little, waiting for Clementine to answer.

"I just … am I …" the girl swallows, audibly. "Am I… _bad_ , then? Because of _Kuh_ -"

"No," her answer is short, swift, mechanical. Her fingers trace the bandage, hissing in a breath as the cold breeze sifts through the slight gaps in the white dressing. "No. It's not … it's not just _about_ being good or bad. It's …" she clears her throat, thinking hard. "You did what you thought was right. Like with Sarita, right?" Clementine flinches at the name, her eyes widening, but doesn't talk. "It didn't go how you _wanted_ it to, but … that's life."

"What about … the people I scared away?"

"What about them?"

"Is that _life_?" the way Clementine mutters out the word, bitter and miserable, has Jane's heart crack. She fiddles with her boot laces, tugging at them to stall for time. This whole _feelings_ stuff is so far out of her comfort zone, words can't even begin to explain it. Her eyes track to where the family had retreated to, the woods, and she hesitates.

"If you didn't do that, they could've … they could've been bandits, or murderers, or _worse_. They were -" _Too much of a risk? Liabilities? Dangerous? I dunno. Shit._ _ **Think.**_ "They were … more trouble than they were worth. You _saw_ how the guy was, how scared that girl was -" Clementine nods slowly, frowning a little. "That's just the way these things are, sometimes. You can't always do what's best for everyone. You did the right thing, for you _and_ for me, and that's … all anyone can _do_."

Again, the girl nods, a little firmer this time, as if trying to convince herself. Jane moves her arm, wincing as she feels pins and needles from keeping it draped around the girl for so long, and for a moment just wriggles the 'appendage', trying to get feeling into it.

"That … everything?" Jane asks awkwardly, pushing herself to her feet and shivering. "'Cause it's cold as _shit_ out here, and _you_ need to sleep," the girl opens her mouth to protest, but stops when she sees the grin curling Jane's lips, instead shrugging and easing herself to her feet.

"Is it going to be comfy?"

Jane chuckles, raising her eyes to the heavens and shrugging a little as she leads the way to the stairwell, her lips twitching to a smirk. Her hands brush against the handle for the roof door, gasping a little at the freezing metal - _need to get gloves, or something_ \- before wrestling the door open, breathing out a sigh of relief as she takes the first step inside the hardware store, waiting for the girl to scurry after her. With the eleven-year-old out of the chill, and less likely to catch some filthy fucking illness, she _clunks_ the door shut, leading the way down the stairs with echoing footsteps.

"Better than the ground, or the deck," Jane speaks teasingly, thinking longingly of curling up in one of the comfier seats in the break room. _Definitely_ better than the wooden floor of the deck, or the concrete of the pen. She pauses as she catches the armory door in her periphery, her breath hitching. Where Troy had first…

"Jane?"

She shakes her head, sparing a half glance at Clementine with with a stuttering start of _'wh - what?'._ Jane ignores her for a second, taking the moment to look around the hardware store again. Blood. Dead bodies. No Troy, no Carver. Just her, Clementine and the baby. Swiping some hair out of her face, she looks back to her small companion, who stands awkwardly by the break room down, looking at Jane like she's about to explode.

"S - Sorry, yea, uh…" she looks back towards the armory door, the thought of _sleeping_ back in Howe's suddenly not seeming so appealing. Her heart feels too large for her chest, but she bites back the worry with a swallow and a grunt, shaking her head again. "Just … thinking."

"About the bad sh - shit?"

Jane laughs through her nose, nodding slowly and looking at Clementine with an amused eye, pleasantly surprised she's picking up all her little 'sayings'. "Yea. The bad shit, Clem." Clementine opens her mouth, by the looks of it to ask another question, which Jane - perhaps … harshly - interrupts. "It's not … let's _not_ talk about it, okay?" Clementine closes her mouth, looking to one side before nodding quickly, a short and tiny gesture. Jane nods too, crossing to the break room and fiddling with the handle.

"Okay."

Wordlessly, she pushes the door open, feeling something eat away at her from the inside as she looks back to the girl for a moment, opening her mouth to ask if she'd _want_ anything - a drink, something to eat, she doesn't _know_ \- but stops when she hears a yawn from the girl, her grin twisting back onto her lips.

"Thought you weren't tired," she points out, her voice teasing as she watches the girl lift AJ out of the little cardboard box, swaying him gently in her arms. The boy gives a tiny gurgle, the noises making Jane wrinkle her nose and look away.

"I'm not."

"Yuh-huh," Jane hums lazily, slumping in one of the chairs and instantly relaxing. Her eyes open as quickly as they shut, however, looking at Clementine awkwardly. What with her recent 'habit' around sleep time, Jane has the distinct impression the girl might want -

 _Ah, yep._

For a single mean spirited second, Jane considers just shutting her eyes and going to sleep. Yet, again, those stupid words her mother would always say come crawling back to her, mumbling doubts into her head, enough for Jane to relent and stand slowly, squinting around the room.

A ratty couch, moth eaten and definitely well worn, seems big enough, the girl already inching towards it and looking at Jane with wide eyes. With a nod, and a bitten back grimace about giving up the best seat in the 'house', the woman steps over and perches herself on the edge, watching as the eleven-year-old almost immediately huddles up to her, the baby curling up in her arms. Jane chuckles, shaking her head, and fiddles with the girl's hat.

"Comfy?"

"Mmhmmm…" Clementine wriggles a little, her face smushed against Jane's chest, the woman chuckling lightly. The girl smiles warmly at that, her eyes shut and the baby rocking gently in her arms. Jane nods once, her fingers idly fiddling with the tatty cap for a moment longer, making to shut her eyes but stopping when - "Thank you, Jane."

She blinks. Her heart melts.

"Uh - uhm … yea," she stammers out, feeling a heat rise in her cheeks. "You, uh, you too, Clem," she mumbles, scratching at the back of her neck. "Just, uh, get some rest, okay?"

"M'kay…"

Jane doesn't catch sleep so easily as Clementine drifts off almost instantly, with a faint smile touching her cheeks, her breathing getting slower and deeper as time passes. Instead, Jane stays bolt upright for what feels like hours, her fingers still fiddling with the girl's hat as she rests, her mind racing as she tries to shut out all the bad memories of this hellhole, half expecting Troy to burst in at any moment. _He's_ _ **dead**_ _. Stop thinking about it!_

' _Think we need to talk 'bout our 'rragnement,_ _ **bitch**_ _.'_

He can't get in. He's _gone._

' _You tell Bill where these supplies're goin', and I will fucken'_ _ **kill you**_ _. You un'erstan' me?'_

Just go to sleep. He's not here.

' _You wanna eat, you bett'r put more in'ta it than that.'_

Her eyes crack open, darting about the dark room. She swallows, looking down at Clementine, already blissfully asleep, AJ's eyes glistening in the moonlight, staring up at her almost accusingly. She tries to smile.

' _Should be thanken' me I'm puttin' it_ _ **there**_ _. I don't want no kids, you don't either.'_

Fucking psycho, fucking psycho, fucking psycho…

' _Ain't no way you're_ _ **ever**_ _leavin' without my help, you stupid_ _ **cunt.**_ _'_

Eyes wide open, now, she still looks about the room, feeling her heart crack faster against her chest. This was a mistake. She can't _live_ here. _Shit shit shit._ Her throat feels dry, her stomach rubbery, her eyes wet. She swats at them, trying not to make any noise, biting her lip. Clementine wriggles, mumbling in her sleep, but the smile is still on her face. _How is she smiling?_

' _Git back to the pen, 'n'don't let me catch'yew tryna get outta this again!'_

She jams her eyes shut, her grip on Clementine tightening, like she's some teddy bear or security blanket that she needs to anchor herself to reality, away from all the bullshit this world has to offer. She grits her teeth, thinking over and over again of whatever she can to get the sick fuck's face out of her head. _Why did I come back?_

 _For Clementine._

Jane's eyes shift to the little girl next to her, the small scrap of survivor seemingly unaware of the _distress_ \- fucking pathetic, freaking out over a dead guy - Jane's in. She takes a shuddering breath, rubbing at her face again and sparing one last look at the door.

 _You're fine. She's fine. You're both fine._

Her grip still tight on Clementine, and with one last anxious look around the room, Jane hesitantly closes her eyes, exhaling a slow breath as she does so. For a half second, she's almost tempted to make a reversal of the request Clementine made, to wake _her_ up, but remembers herself _just_ before. Uneasily, she feels the tiredness of the day - the entire _week_ \- crash down around her, and quietly succumbs to sleep, trying to block out the memories from … _here,_ remembering with the tiniest smile possible the words Clementine had mumbled on the roof, the reassurement which wasn't _meant_ to be reassuring.

' _So … when you shot Troy, you did the right thing. Because you were helping us. You were helping_ _ **me**_ _.'_

It's better Clementine thinks of her like _that_ , than how she thinks of herself.


End file.
